


Something Good

by swansaloft (orphan_account)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Enchanted Forest, F/F, Friendship, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-03-19 12:41:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 34,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3610461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/swansaloft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>FTL AU. After a year of marriage to King Leopold, Queen Regina gives birth to Prince Henry, and Emma becomes his nursemaid. Raising the young prince brings the two women together in a way neither could have predicted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU FTL fic. It takes place approximately a year after Regina's marriage to Leopold, but the events of “The Doctor” haven't happened. Enchanted Forest characters will appear in various roles, and obviously for the purposes of this fic, Snow and Charming aren't Emma's parents. It is fairly dark in the beginning, but things will get better later, I promise.
> 
> TW for mentions of abuse and marital rape in future chapters (though nothing explicit).

When the door to her chamber slammed open with no warning, Emma Swan blinked.

 

Once.

 

Twice.

 

After the third time, she was finally able to focus on the woman in front of her.

 

Mrs. Lucas, the castle housekeeper, stood silhouetted by the light of the doorway, but the words she said made no sense. Something about “queen” and “nursemaid” and “sorry.”

 

Emma curled back in on herself and laid her head on her pillow. She had no idea how long it had been since she had left this room, nor did she care. Her tray of food sat uneaten and growing stale on the table at her bedside, the glass of water the only thing she had touched.

 

For all the good it had done. She hadn't even felt thirsty, but she thought that if she drank water, then maybe she could cry. How she wanted to. Her breasts felt full and her womb felt empty, but her eyes remained numb and dry no matter how much she wanted to let them fill with tears and weep until this pain went away.

 

Mrs. Lucas snapped a finger in front of her face.

 

“Emma. Focus, girl.”

 

Emma tried. She stared at the older woman's glasses, noting the way the light glinted off the frames.

 

“You need to clean yourself. I'll send Red in to help you.”

 

The woman turned to go, glancing with disgust down at the chamber pot.

 

“I'll send someone in for this as well.”

 

Emma felt like she should nod, so she did. It made her head hurt in a distant sort of way.

 

The woman stopped in the doorway and pivoted, walking back to Emma's bed. She reached out and firmly grasped Emma's shoulders, forcing her to look up and meet her eyes.

 

“It's been nearly a week, Emma. I know you're in pain, but you are a strong young woman. You can do this.”

 

She gave a bracing nod and finally left the room, shutting the door behind her with a soft _snick_.

 

* * *

 

When the door to her chamber flew open, Regina Mills screamed.

 

The midwife smiled encouragingly. “Oh, my. We are getting close, aren't we, Your Majesty? Let's take a peek.”

 

Regina gritted her teeth in response, splaying her legs for inspection. She was beyond modesty, beyond decorum. She only wanted it to _stop_.

 

“I do believe we're nearly ready to push, dear.”

 

Regina bit back a retort about not thinking the midwife would be expelling any humans out of _her_ nether regions anytime that evening – was it even evening anymore? It seemed she had been in pain for an eternity, and she was so tired.

 

“You'll be wanting this.”

 

The midwife was holding a strap of leather in front of her face, and Regina looked up uncomprehendingly.

 

“It's for your mouth. You bite down on it. It keeps the teeth from being damaged during the worst of the pain.”

 

That sounded disgusting, and her face must have shown her thoughts.

 

“Trust me, I know it's odd. But I promise this is brand new leather, never used before, only the best for you, Your Majesty. And we wouldn't want anything to happen to those pretty teeth of yours, would we?”

 

Regina took the strap but handed it to Anna, her lady's maid who stood at her side. Some time later, however, she let the midwife place it in her mouth because she was ready to let the woman do anything. She would get up and dance a reel naked in the moonlight if only this would end. Regina was no stranger to pain, but this was not mere hurt. This was agony. This was fire. Everything was hazy and red, and nothing seemed real. She kept having half thoughts that made no sense, and she was angry because she was confused and she was weary, so very weary.

 

The midwife's face kept appearing in her line of vision, and she heard the word “push” time and again.

 

As though she could do anything other than what her body wanted.

 

One final, scalding wave of pain and then, mercifully, it was over.

 

Then there was a slimy, tiny little creature making an appalling shrieking sound, and when Anna wrapped him in a blanket and placed him in her arms, Regina's entire world stopped.

 

She smiled down through her tears at the scrunched red face.

 

“Hello, my little prince.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the length. Future chapters will be longer, but the prologue worked best if it stopped there.
> 
> I can't believe this is finally happening! I first had this idea about three months ago. I never really intended to write it - in fact, it was originally supposed to be a GIF set based on a line from The Sound of Music. But it grew and kept nagging at me, and now here I am! Writing a multi-chapter fic. *gulp* I doubt it will be more than 30 or 40k, but it's still longer than my norm. The title is a nod to The Sound of Music for giving me the inspiration for the idea behind this fic, but there will be no real similarities beyond Emma being a sort-of governess.


	2. Chapter 2

After a hot bath – a treat not often afforded servants – Emma began to feel human again. She wanted to relish the return of sanity, but with it came a fresh memory of the reality she had no desire to face without the foggy haze in which she had been living. She could hear the wail of her baby boy, fading down the corridor as the tall man and the woman with the long face carried him away.

 

 _No_.

 

Emma stared intently at the bowl of chicken broth Red had placed in front of her and picked up the spoon with purpose. She would feed herself. She was clean again, albeit still sore, and the next task in front of her was to eat, which she had not done enough since...then. A few swallows of the broth made her realize she was starving. Emma still had not said a word, but Red took one look at the way she was scarfing down the broth and scurried back to the kitchens. She returned with a slice of bread, a small hunk of cheese, and an apple.

 

“You shouldn't eat much. I know how little you've had these past few days.”

 

Emma nodded in agreement.

 

“The maids say Her Majesty is still in labor, but she should only be a few hours more. That's long enough for you to take a nap before you go up there,” Red's eyes skimmed over her face, which Emma imagined looked a fright. “If you want to, that is”

 

Emma still was not entirely sure what her journey up to the queen's chambers would entail. Red assumed Mrs. Lucas, her Granny, had told her, and Emma could not bring herself to ask for clarification. Help cleaning up the aftermath of the birth, perhaps? They could very well want extra help for the task. Watching Snow so the governess could go check in on the new prince or princess? Emma hoped it was not that. She could feel her eyelids begin to droop already, and the princess could be a handful when she was so inclined.

 

After she had finished the last bit of food in front of her, Emma stood and moved to the bed, which had been made up with fresh linens in her absence. While still slightly scratchy, they smelled fresh and clean, and Emma was able to lay her head down on her pillow without cringing at the scent of her own sweat and drool.

 

“I'll come back and wake you when you're needed, okay, Emma?”

 

“Mmhmm.” Emma let out what she hoped was an agreeable noise before she slipped into deep sleep for the first time in days.

 

* * *

 

“Emma. _Emma_. It's time!”

 

There was a hand shaking her shoulder, and Emma swatted at it. Her dream had been so beautiful. She wanted to return there, to the bright house with the happy baby and the purple wildflowers and sunsets. She smiled to herself and burrowed deeper into her pillow.

 

“Emma!” This time, it was loud enough to rouse her completely, and Emma jerked awake, sitting up on the bed. She felt reality drop onto her like a heavy woolen blanket, making it hard to breathe. She stared at Red, waiting for an explanation.

 

“The midwife has sent for you. Regina is in the last stages. It should only be a few more minutes.”

 

Red held out a serviceable blue dress for her to put on over her shift. Emma stood. Breathed in, breathed out, stepped in, arms up, turned around so Red could help with the fasteners. Red reached over to her small wardrobe and picked up her brush, running it through Emma's hair. Emma felt her eyes roll into the back of her head at the sensation.

 

Then Red's voice came from behind her, hesitant, quiet, not like Red at all.

 

“I don't know how you're going to do it, Emma. Nursing another woman's baby when...after they took yours away from you. But you're brave. You're so brave. Granny says this will be good for you, to help you heal, you know? Besides, wet nurses get better chambers and better food than the rest of us, so I will obviously have to visit you a lot. Think you need an assistant?”

 

Red's tone had escalated to awkwardly teasing, trying to lighten the moment, but Emma only heard a ringing in her ears. She felt the blood drain from her face and her scalp felt strangely numb; she could no longer enjoy the feel of the bristles tugging through her hair.

 

 _That_ was what they wanted of her?

 

* * *

 

Regina had not quite known what to expect after the birth. She had been inundated with advice about the pregnancy while she was with child. The royal physician and apothecary had told her the best foods to eat and which ones to avoid. She was commanded to walk or to stand or to sit a certain number of hours in each day. The midwife advised her on the best methods of birthing the child and strategies to help make the labor pains bearable.

 

No one had told her what to do after the baby was born.

 

Regina had understood, because as queen, she would not be expected – or even allowed, to speak the truth – to raise the child herself. She would hardly have to deal with the baby at all after it was born if she did not want to, other than for ceremony. Months ago, had anyone been able to read her thoughts, they would have seen that that idea brought nothing but a strange kind of relief. She had not wanted a baby to result from this marriage, especially with Daniel still fresh in her mind. This child had been conceived less than a year after his death.

 

Now, however, Regina was unsure what she wanted or how to proceed.

 

So she simply sat there, staring down at his beautiful, tiny, indignant face. She hurt all over and was more exhausted than she had ever been in her life, but as she held him, another sensation took over. The connection she had felt to the life growing inside her belly strengthened to such an extent, she had never felt anything like it. She felt warm and emotional, like she was ready to cry at a moment's notice. She, who never cried in front of anyone. _Tears are weakness_ , whispered a slithering voice in the back of her head. The moment was broken when the baby – Henry, she had decided months ago, and she told the midwife as much – began snuffling at her chest mere minutes after he had been placed in her arms.

 

“The wet nurse is here, Your Majesty. She will see to that. You may have your rest now. You did a splendid job.”

 

The midwife was rambling on about some nonsense, but Regina stared at the unfamiliar blonde woman in the blue dress who had entered the room alongside Mrs. Lucas. She was young, much younger than Regina had expected when the topic had been broached briefly at the beginning of her pregnancy. She had imagined some middle-aged woman with a passel of her own children and heaps of experience. In fact, she seemed to recall a discussion more recently when she had approved a woman who fit that description.

 

This girl hardly looked like she was out of the school room herself, not that Regina was one to talk about that particular topic, as she had just birthed a prince at the ripe old age of nineteen.

 

Mrs. Lucas was perhaps the only person in this entire castle she trusted, however, so if she had approved the woman, Regina felt comfortable with her decision. Still, something seemed wrong. The blonde did not look happy to see Prince Henry. In fact, she looked almost... _frightened_? Surely not. But she was ashen and trembling, and when she reached out to take Henry from the midwife, her jaw was set in a way that implied something other than pleasure.

 

Well. She did not have to like her job so long as she did it efficiently, Regina decided. And if she was ill-suited to care for Henry, a replacement could easily be made. Her son would have nothing but the best. Perhaps his nursemaid would not have to love him. Regina suddenly felt she would have more love for this child than he could ever need.

 

Anna, her maid, ran a cool cloth across her forehead, and the effect was calming. Regina felt the strange high leave her body, lethargy slipping in its place, but she eyed the privacy partition a few feet away where the midwife had taken Emma.

 

“Good girl,” came the soothing tones of the midwife. “You must be nervous. Don't be! This is natural, and His Majesty and the queen would not have selected you had you not been everything they desired.”

 

Regina's eyelids shut of their own accord, but she fought to stay awake so she could hear everything that was happening. The baby's cries ceased, and there was the muted sound of rustling cloth.

 

“He might take a moment to latch on. Let him get accustomed to the idea.”

 

Nothing more for several long moments. Regina felt the pull of sleep dragging her down, but she resisted. She had to wait until she knew there were no problems. She knew the king would not be pleased if she elected to nurse Henry herself – such behavior was seen as beneath royalty – but she would if needed. Henry was her priority now.

 

It seemed strange to actually have something to live for.

 

“There you go. As if you were made for each other!”

 

 _Thank the gods_ , Regina thought, and finally drifted off in slumber.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those of you who have left kudos and kind words! They are so encouraging, and I truly appreciate it.
> 
> Since FTL is a mishmash of historical eras, I am pretty much doing with it as I like. While many things are more medieval, the household staff will function in more or less a Regency fashion, because that is what I'm used to reading.

_One Week Later_

 

Emma let her gaze rest on the tiny fingers lying against her chest as Henry suckled happily away at her breast. She still called him Prince Henry when discussing the baby aloud, but in her head, he was simply Henry.

 

She had no right to feel ownership over him. She knew that. He was a prince, Queen Regina and King Leopold's son. She was nothing but an urchin who had stumbled into a castle and was waiting for them to realize their mistake. Until then, however, she would stay where she was.

 

The first day, she had operated in a daze. At the first sight of the tiny, squalling prince, she had wanted to cast up her accounts and run as far as her wobbly legs would take her. So Emma had quickly attempted to shut off her emotions, a self-preservation strategy she had learned at an early age, for not feeling anything was an attractive option when what you were feeling was truly horrible. Once she was alone that night, however, she had let the guard down, and the dam had burst. She had finally been able to sob the way she had longed to for days, mourning for the child she would, by her own decision, likely never see again.

 

After that, Emma had been able to begin to function normally again. It was difficult; there was no denying the fact. Especially in those first few days, Emma had startled at every cry, instinctively feeling it was her own child she needed to run and comfort. She had woken in the middle of the night aching to hold her son in her arms, the way she had never had. The pang of loss would sometimes steal upon her so quickly, she almost could not stop herself from crying.

 

Still, there was always something comforting about a newborn baby, even one who should by all rights be salt in a fresh, gaping wound. Holding the tiny infant near to her body, it was impossible not to feel comforted, even though it was she who was supposedly doing the soothing. Henry was a dream. His miniscule toes and his coos, how he stared up at her with those bright blue eyes. The way he curled into her arms and rested against her chest, trusting his entire being to her care. It was reassuring and humbling, and Emma had fallen in love with Henry before she even knew what was happening. The little prince had blinked and yawned his way past her walls and into her heart more efficiently than anyone in her past.   
  


Emma’s entire life now revolved around Henry. No longer did she spend dawn ‘til dusk in the castle kitchens. Instead, she resided in the wing near the royal chambers. Her room was not particularly ornate, but it was an open and spacious with comfortable chairs and a balcony. Emma had never lived in such a situation, and to her it was positively resplendent.

 

As Prince Henry's royal nursemaid, her chambers adjoined his, which contained all the decoration her room lacked. There were ruffles and ribbons and more tiny blankets than ten young princes could ever use in their childhoods. She supposed one could cut them up and fashion a quilt that might actually be useful once the little prince passed the height of a small pony.

 

Little prince. That was how she had heard Queen Regina refer to him. To everyone else he was the “young prince,” “His Highness,” or, more often, “Prince Henry.” But there was something about the way the queen had murmured “little prince” that stole Emma's breath away. She had not been meant to hear it, Emma was sure. It had been during one of the queen’s private moments with Henry, putting him to sleep. But she had entered the room just as the queen was bidding her son farewell, and Emma had been touched by just how caring and emotional the queen had been when she said it.

 

“Good night, my little prince,” she whispered as she dusted the lightest of kisses upon his downy head. Emma had quickly shuffled back through the doorway, then made a show of entering, unsure why she felt the need to allow the queen that little private moment, but following the conviction all the same.

 

The queen had nodded a kind greeting toward Emma and exited the word without a word, which tended to be the extent of their relationship. The queen was amicable but never truly friendly, yet she did not seem given to snobbery. She did not look down on Emma due to station. Emma simply had the impression that the queen did not let many people into her life. Not that Emma thought she should be a part of Queen Regina's life any more than she already was, by proxy of the woman's son. But she was never quite sure what the queen was thinking in regards to her.

 

The one thing Emma knew with absolute certainty was that Regina loved her child. Emma had never imagined herself in this situation, but if she had, she certainly would have assumed a queen would be distant and cold. They were allowed to be, after all. For ladies of the upper crust, it was unfashionable to spend too much time with one's own children until they were grown. That was what servants were for. Feeding and changing undergarments and other child-rearing tasks were delegated to those more suited for such menial labor, thus freeing the ladies to pursue more ladylike endeavors, such as charity work. And maybe, if she happened to be in a liberal land, a queen might even assist with the duties of running the kingdom.

 

Emma had not been here long, but that did not appear to be the case with King Leopold.

 

He was a good king. No one could fault him that. He cared about the health and well-being of his people, as well as the wealth of the kingdom. He did not run it into debt. He was responsible. He was fair and kind to those who appeared before him in the throne room.

 

Still, Emma had never liked him. Something about the man had felt off to her since the beginning; no one who appeared to be so utterly unselfish was to be trusted. When Emma looked into his eyes as he thanked her for taking care of his beloved baby, something about his gaze had caused ice to shiver along her spine.

 

He reminded her of one of the families who had taken her in for a while when she was twelve. The husband had been a religious man, friendly, charitable. He took in orphans, for goodness’ sake! He was an upstanding citizen of the kingdom.

 

But behind closed doors, he lost all the charm he adorned for the outside world. Never did he spare a kind word for anyone, and if you failed to do your share of the chores, it was the belt for you. Or if you spoke out of turn. Or if he decided you looked at him the wrong way. He belittled his wife until her pale skin ran bloodless, until she and the children were afraid to speak in anything above there merest hush.

 

Emma had run from the home after four months, preferring the unforgiving heat of the summer sun to fearful whispers and the burn of the belt as it cut into her skin in one, two, three lashes too many to merely be considered discipline.

 

While Emma had never observed such behavior from the king, she sensed the same sort of attitude from him hiding beneath the royal benevolence.

 

The stories of his kindness were legendary, often told alongside stories of the deceased Queen Eva's fair beauty. They had made a perfect couple, and out of such perfection had sprung a princess of unsurpassed loveliness sure to inspire bards for centuries to come. Her temperament left something to be desired, but what else was to be expected from a princess who had servants with express orders to cater to her every whim?

 

Emma hoped Henry would not become so spoiled. She imagined that his eyes were truly kind and innocent, as one’s out to be at so tender an age. She had no idea how long she would be in Henry’s life, but she hoped to be as good of an influence as possible. She did not know if that was possible, given her history, but she was resolved to try her hardest.

 

Henry pulled away from her nipple and began squirming, so she placed him against her shoulder and gently patted his back until he belched.

 

If she was not mistaken, it was nearly time for the queen's nightly visit. Since she had been released from the physician's orders of constant bed rest four days earlier, she had come every night directly following the evening meal.

 

A knock sounded on the door, and Emma was momentarily confused, because she knew Queen Regina would not knock to enter her own son's chambers. Red peeked her head through the entryway upon Emma's call for her to enter. She grinned, holding up her hand.

 

“I come bearing gifts.”

 

“Do tell,” Emma smiled.

 

“Fresh cherry pastries, hot from the oven. I know your dinner will be coming soon, but I thought you'd like one.”

 

Emma's stomach growled at the thought.

 

“How well you know me, Red,” Emma said, though in all honesty, that was not entirely truthful. Though the girl was the closest thing to a friend Emma had ever had, there were still many things Emma neglected to tell her. But that was fine. She did not need a bosom buddy, anyway. In fact, Emma shuddered at the thought of revealing that much of oneself to another.

 

She shook off her thoughts and took a bite of the pastry, enjoying the burst of sweetness with just the right hint of tart.

 

Emma moaned. “Delicious.”

 

“I'll tell Cook you said so. How is the young prince?” Red asked as she peered down at him.

 

“He's perfect.”

 

Emma could not help the small swell of pride as she let her finger run along his soft cheek.

  
“And you?” Red asked.

 

“I'm fine, as well.”

 

Red bit her lip like she wanted to ask more, but Emma changed the topic before she could. She was fine. And if she was not, then that was her own concern. She already felt ashamed that Red had seen her in her earlier state the week before. She was a survivor; she did not fade away into nothing. Yet those _were_ extenuating circumstances. Circumstances she still was not over and did not want to dwell on right now, with Red's concerned eyes upon her.

 

So Emma changed the topic back to the pastries once more, and the moment passed. Red left a few moments later, promising to visit again the next day if her workload allowed. Emma was glad. She did enjoy Red's company. Even with such visits, she imagined that eventually she might start growing restless from being cooped up for so long in one set of rooms, not being allowed (or forced) to move along whenever the mood struck her. But her chambers were large, and the balcony allowed her to go outdoors without straying far from her prince.

 

She could breathe the fresh air and gaze up at the stars until dawn if she desired. She did not, of course, do so, as she mostly slept when Henry slept, in stretches of a few hours at a time. But there were times when sleep would not come easily, and it was nice to have the familiar comfort of the sky and stars to lull her into slumber.

 

Emma felt her eyelids begin to droop as she rocked back and forth in the wooden chair, humming softly to Henry under her breath. It was no particular tune, but he always seemed comforted when she hummed to him.

 

Queen Regina entered the room so softly, Emma was completely unaware she was there. The hinges on the doors were impeccably oiled, and the queen's slippers made practically no noise as she glided along the stone floor. Emma started when the bejeweled indigo dress passed into her line of vision, and Henry jolted from his almost-sleep state. He squirmed and began to wail as Emma stood and curtsied, trying to show deference and comfort the child at the same time.

 

She did not want the queen to think she was an incompetent nursemaid. Emma truly was sorry for the sudden illness that had rendered the original nursemaid candidate incapable of the job, but it was her position now.

 

Regina held out her arms wordlessly for her son, and Emma complied. She watched the woman's face soften as she turned away from Emma, her already lovely features taking on a stunning glow.

 

As Emma moved to leave the queen and her son alone, the other woman spoke, still facing away from her.

 

“You needn't bow to me when we are alone.”

 

Emma blinked, unsure of how to respond.

 

“I do not want Henry disturbed for the sake of formalities.”

 

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

 

Emma continued into her own chambers and listened as Henry's cries quieted, the queen's face still at the forefront of her thoughts. She was exquisite, truth be told. Though to Emma’s eyes, no one really seemed to notice. The few times she had been in the royal dining room, she had observed the strange dynamic between the parties. Though Princess Snow was clearly devoted to the queen, the attention did not seem to be reciprocated. The woman was gracious and polite, but she was never enthusiastic when it came to the princess. King Leopold, however, held onto the princess's every word as if it were magic and showered her with praise until she was glowing.

 

To the king, Snow could do no wrong. Though perhaps that was to be expected of a princess. What was bothersome, however, was how the entirety of the king’s focus was on his daughter, always. Not a whit was spared for Queen Regina. She would sit, silent except to answer Snow’s questions. Other than that, she may as well have been a fixture. A particularly lovely carving made of wood by some fanciful craftsman who wanted to construct an ornate chair for the royal table.

 

Emma did not know why she was so bothered by this. After all, she had seen many women who would prefer to be ignored by their husbands over the unwanted attention they did receive. Still, she had gone through life feeling invisible, whether by circumstance (no one wanted to see the beggar orphan curled up between the corners of buildings for protection from the wind) or design (when she was trying to steal day-old bread from the baker’s shop).

 

She knew almost nothing about the queen, but because of this, she felt a strange sort of kinship with her.

 

Emma knew such thoughts were inappropriate.There were boundaries she should not cross, even in her thoughts. She and Queen Regina were from two entirely separate worlds, even if she was caring for the heir apparent.

 

Still, Emma remained intrigued by the lovely young queen, and as she had been the past few nights, she was confusingly disappointed when the brunette nodded to her and took her leave once her son was asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

“If you could hold there for a moment, please, Your Majesty?”

 

Regina kept her arms raised as the seamstress used a string to measure around her chest. Eight days had passed since she had given birth to Henry, and her figure was still adjusting to the change. Henry’s acknowledgment ceremony was in two days’ time, and while her dress for the occasion had already been designed and assembled, final alterations would be required before she could wear it. It was a lovely pale gown with embroidery and beadwork fine enough to make all the ladies in the land weep with envy.

 

Regina felt impatient as the woman pinched and marked the string, then moved on to her stomach and her hips. She had not seen Henry since the night before, and she was getting anxious. She habitually checked in on him at least three times a day, sometimes more, and he was almost constantly on her mind in the interim between her visits.

 

Although she was still sore and leaking in various places the seamstress would probably faint if she mentioned, Regina had finally stopped feeling like she needed to ask someone to put her under a sleeping curse for a decade just to finally feel rested again.

 

Though perhaps she could do it to herself. She had powers, that much she had learned from Rumplestiltskin before she had called a halt to their magic lessons. Obviously she was contemplating no such thing, as there was no way to wake up from such a curse without - well, without something she did not have available to her. Not anymore.

 

Regina shook her head before she could dwell too much on Daniel, willing the thoughts away. Such thoughts always made her emotional, and she had already learned her emotions were much closer to the surface than usual since having Henry. Now was not the time for an outburst of any sort. Now she simply needed the seamstress to finish her work so Regina could go see her son.

 

As though she had read Regina's mind, the seamstress backed away with her pins and her string.

 

“All finished. My girls and I will get to work on this immediately. It will be ready by tomorrow, so you can try it on before the ceremony.”

 

“Thank you. I’m sure it will be lovely,” Regina replied with a smile. It was the truth after all, and the lovely dresses were one of the few things she enjoyed about being queen. That is, when she gazed at herself in the mirror and concentrated on aesthetics rather than the fact that the dresses still felt like absurd costumes for a role in a farce for which she had never auditioned.

 

Or auditioned unknowingly, rather.

 

Anna assisted her in donning her original gown once more, but once she had finished, Regina dismissed her. Regina preferred her privacy, and she did not trust the maid. Not that Anna had done anything in particular to rouse her suspicions, but it was always possible she reported to the king. In fact, it was almost probable. Despite the obvious differences, the castle often felt like the house she grew up in, wherein the walls had eyes watching her every move, ready to report her the moment she did something wrong. The way Regina saw it, the fewer eyes on her the better.

 

And there were many eyes, despite the fact that there seemed to be so few people who actually noticed her beyond paying her the deference her position afforded. In her year as queen, she had learned her place. She was involved in some charity efforts, and she was allowed to join Leopold for a select few meetings regarding the state of the kingdom. But much of her time was spent on events. Whether a ball or a feast, there was always something to be planned, or a ceremony happening in another kingdom that needed to be attended. She wrote piles of letters in her carefully sloped handwriting, and she had regular planning meetings with Mrs. Lucas, the castle housekeeper.

 

The older woman was without a doubt Regina's favorite person in the castle. The woman had grown up in the castle, only slightly ahead of Leopold in years. She was comfortable in her role, and though she never overstepped her bounds, she was unafraid to voice her opinion. She was not overly friendly, and she was strictly no-nonsense and blunt nearly to a fault, but it was reassuring in a way. Regina never had to worry her words actually meant something other than their face value. She had helped Regina immensely when she was learning how to be a queen. Her mother had trained her well, but there were several faux pas she would have made without Mrs. Lucas's advice.

 

Regina felt her steps quicken as she turned down the corridor that led to Henry’s room. She could almost feel him in her arms already, filling the aching void that existed when he was not there.

 

She opened the door and saw his nursemaid, Emma, smiling down at him as she caressed his cheek. Regina felt a sickening pang of envy for this woman who was able to spend every moment with her child. It was not fair. The months she had been with Daniel, she had envisioned their future many times. While the specifics had varied, there were always children. Children they would both love and raise together and teach to walk and talk and laugh at their father's goofy antics the way she so loved to.

 

But she would never have that.

 

And now she had a child, and she would never truly be able to _have_ him, not the way she longed to. Not the way Emma would.

 

Regina hated feeling bitter. She had spent her whole life fighting against it, trying to forgive her father for never standing up for her. Trying to remember that her mother always had her best interest at heart even if her methods were hurtful. But she had felt a dark seed of bitterness take root in her heart the moment she had stiffened her spine and bit out the words, “I will,” to a man more than twice her age who happened to be the all-powerful ruler of a kingdom. Since then, it had become easier to lose herself in dark revelries, resenting the king and her circumstances in a way she had never allowed herself to do before.

 

What had this Emma done to deserve such a privilege as spending her life with Regina's son? Why did she get to play a part in stealing the tiny bit of happiness Regina had?

 

But then Emma looked up and saw her, and Regina could not fail to notice the dark circles that surrounded her eyes and the haunted shadows within them.

 

Regina immediately felt disgusted at herself for harboring such dark thoughts about the blonde. This was clearly a woman who was suffering and not to be envied, but more than that, she had done nothing at all to deserve Regina's ire. Indeed, she had been a splendid nursemaid thus far. The castle physician had inspected Henry only two days past and proclaimed him healthy. Emma was clearly kind to Henry, and Henry had taken to her as well. Regina scolded herself; she did not want to turn into someone who would resent and even condemn an innocent woman for no reason other than her own selfishness.

 

Though the nursemaid had no knowledge of her thoughts, Regina still felt guilty, so in recompense, she flashed a smile at Emma. The woman blinked, startled, then smiled hesitantly in return.

 

Emma stood and handed her the small bundle, carefully cradling his head as she passed him over. He whined at the disruption but quickly settled into Regina's arms. Emma then left them alone, padding softly to the adjoining chamber and shutting the door behind her.

 

Regina lifted Henry immediately and breathed in his baby smell, kissed his forehead and his nose. He stared up at her solemnly, unblinking, and Regina felt her heart swell and her face break out into a wide grin she did not even attempt to hold back.

 

“Hello, my little prince.”

 

She walked a slow circle around the room, singing him a lullaby in a quiet voice. Though the nursemaid had left them alone, she was just in the next room. Regina felt horribly awkward at the idea of letting anyone see or hear her like this.

 

Anyone but Henry. Her son.

 

Her son who would never judge her, who seemed to love her presence just as much as she enjoyed his. He could not do much to indicate this yet, but she simply felt it. She felt it in the way he settled into her arms, welcoming her touch. Nursemaid or not, he would not forget her. She would never let him.

 

-

 

Regina held her head high as she stepped out at Leopold’s side in front of the crowd. She was decked out in full regalia, and her hair had taken her maids nearly an hour to perfect. A glance in the looking glass had assured her she looked every bit the part of Queen Regina. Princess Snow followed directly behind them, looking achingly lovely in the pale white gown that perfectly contrasted her raven locks.

 

Regina’s throne was next to Leopold’s, though his was raised slightly higher, and Snow’s smaller throne was on the other side of hers. She sat in her assigned place between father and daughter, and the trumpeters began the proclamation that heralded the entrance of Prince Henry.

 

The doors to the throne room opened slowly, revealing Leopold’s four senior knights bearing a small, ornate cradle with a tall back fashioned to look like a miniature throne. It was carved out of the deepest cherry wood, and the crimson velvet was soft as butter. Regina had felt it herself the day before, as she inspected the contraption to make sure it was fit for her son. She had stood to the side and listened as the royal carpenter assured the king that it was his best work, sturdy enough to hold a grown man. Leopold had approved it at a glance, but Regina had stayed behind, pressing her hands to the wood to test its strength, feeling the material, and running her fingers along the wood to check for splinters or rough edges. She found none; the carpenter had been truthful about the superiority of his product.

 

She now felt her heart chest expand with pride as she watched her son being borne down the aisle by the arms of four of the strongest men in the kingdom.

 

When they reached the front of the throne room, they placed the cradle on the raised platform before the thrones, and then they bowed, retreated a few feet, and knelt in unison.

 

The high priest stepped forward and began speaking in the Old Language. None aside from the members of the clergy knew more than a few select words anymore, but that was of no matter. It was pleasant to listen to, with the exotic vowels and rolling consonants.

 

Long minutes passed, and Regina held her breath, praying that Henry would behave. He had been asleep when he entered, but she saw him start to squirm, his sleep disturbed by the music and the loud, unfamiliar voice so close to him.

 

The priest reached for the holy oil for the final portion of the ceremony, and Regina held her breath. He reached down and sprinkled a few droplets onto Henry’s forehead, and the prince immediately began making snuffling noises that would turn to screams very quickly.

 

As Regina had predicted, a loud, indignant wail came from the small bundle as the high priest switched back to their tongue. She glanced nervously over at the king, praying his mouth had not taken on that displeased twist it sometimes did. But no, not in front of an audience. She need not have worried.

 

“By the power vested in me, this day, before gods and men, I proclaim Prince Henry the Heir Apparent to the White Kingdom.”

 

Henry’s cries increased, though they were in no danger of drowning the booming voice of the priest. Regina wanted to stand and run to his side and make it stop. She hated hearing her son cry, and moreover, she did not want the king to have any reason to be upset. Surely he would not be. This was likely how these ceremonies went, for traditionally, the heir apparent was to be acknowledged at the age of ten days. No baby went that long without crying unless he was asleep the entire time.

 

The knights rose at the priest’s signal and hoisted Henry onto their shoulders once again. They turned so he was facing the crowd, and the priest's voice rang out across the throne room.

 

“I present Henry, Crown Prince of the White Kingdom.”

 

The crowd bowed as the knights carried Henry back down the aisle, his now nearly ear-piercing wails covered by the joyous trumpeting that had begun once again.

 

Regina knew Emma would be waiting just outside the doors to comfort Henry and nurse him if needed before he was presented to the kingdom. She ached to be the one out there with him, but she took solace in the fact that nursemaid was good with Henry.

 

After the doors closed behind Henry and the music faded away, the priest stepped aside, and King Leopold began his speech.

 

“Lords and ladies of kingdoms near and far, I thank you for joining us today.”

 

He continued for several minutes, spewing platitudes and pieces of wisdom and generally being _kingly_. He did it all in that soft voice of his that still somehow managed to command attention, that voice that got even softer and paradoxically more frightening when he so chose.

 

But not now. Now, his benevolence was on full display.

 

“If you would care to accompany me and my family, we will be presenting my son to the kingdom, followed shortly by a feast to celebrate this most joyous day.”

 

The lords and ladies adjourned to the courtyard, to a section just outside the banquet hall which had been left open and waiting for them. She, Leopold, and Snow made their way to the large balcony that overlooked the courtyard. A small host of servants was waiting for them, remaining unseen just on this side of the arched balcony entryway. One handed a goblet of wine to the king, for he would have to make another speech, this one to the kingdom at large. Emma was there, and she carefully passed Henry into Regina’s waiting arms.

 

He was still awake and clearly not happy about it, fussing as he squirmed in Regina’s arms.

 

Having quenched his thirst, the king stepped forward, Snow on one side of him and Regina on the other. They paraded onto the balcony, and a great cheer arose from the crowd. It lasted nearly a minute, and Regina looked out at the crowd and was amazed by the sight before her.

 

Every spare inch was filled with the citizens who had gathered to catch a glimpse of the new prince. Old and young alike, hundreds upon hundreds had gathered, and Regina felt the sickening flutter of nerves as so many eyes looked upon her.

 

“ _I wonder sometimes if the people really love you.”_ Her mother's subtle admonishment from her wedding day echoed in her head as it always did when she was before the kingdom. Perhaps today would be the day her subjects might begin to love her as they never had before. Maybe all they needed was to see her as a mother.

 

Finally, King Leopold held up his arms, and the crowd quieted. Henry did not, however, and his screams clearly indicated that he did not care for the loud noise or being paraded about.

 

The king began his speech, regardless.

 

“Dearest citizens and friends, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for coming today to see the newest addition to our happy family. As you all know, when I lost my beloved Queen Eva some time ago, I never thought I would have the chance to have another child. I do adore my daughter, my beautiful princess Snow. Like her mother, she can never be replaced in my heart. But what I find is that my heart seems capable of growing exponentially, for in addition to his mother, there is now one more whom I have welcomed into my heart with open arms.”

 

He reached forward, and Regina placed Henry into his arms despite her inner protest.

 

Leopold held his son up for all to see, and Henry scrunched up his face and wailed with renewed vigor.

 

“My son is ten days old, handsome, and healthy. I am also proud to say that he is in possession of a remarkably healthy pair of lungs,” the king smiled, and the crowd laughed good-naturedly. “Meet Henry, my son, and the Crown Prince of the White Kingdom.”

 

The people went wild, and the sound was indescribable. Leopold handed Henry back to her, and Regina quickly placed her hands over Henry's ears to protect them. Surely this level of sound could not be good for him.

 

But among the ruckus, in addition to cheers for Henry, Leopold, and even Snow, she heard, “Long live Queen Regina!” and the smile she had been wearing since stepping onto the balcony finally felt genuine.  
  


It appeared the people of the kingdom might be opening their hearts to her after all.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So when I said "slow burn," apparently I meant that our ladies would barely even interact for several chapters. But no worries, I have some great stuff in store for the next chapter. There will be _words_ exchanged between Emma and Regina! The real, talking kind! *gasp* I know. Crazy, right?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I didn’t get this posted on Saturday; I didn’t get a chance to finish editing in time. But I have a mini-vacation of sorts this week, so I’m excited to have a lot of writing time. To make up for the wait, though, this chapter is extra long and, as promised, contains the much-awaited first real interactions between Regina and Emma. Enjoy!

Henry would not stop crying.

 

In the month since he had been born, Emma had been tired, she had been frustrated, she had been overwhelmed and even nearly delirious at times.

 

Never had she been so many of these things at once.

 

At this point, Emma was nearly ready to emit a scream to match Henry’s.

 

The midwife had given her some advice when she had first taken up the position of nursemaid, as had Granny. Clearly it had not been sufficient, because she simply had no idea what to _do_.

 

She had tried feeding him, but he had turned away. Burping him had yielded no result. She had checked to see if he needed changing, hummed him songs, rocked him in the chair, bounced him as she walked around the room, given him a blanket and a little carved wooden toy, even taken him outside for some fresh air.

 

Nothing had succeeded in calming the tiny prince.

 

Emma had experience with children but almost none with newborns, and that was become more clear to her by the moment. Why had she ever accepted this position? She knew nothing. _Nothing_. She had not even considered herself capable of raising her own child; what was she doing caring for someone else’s?

 

These thoughts mixed with the reverberating echoes of Henry's wails, and it all swirled around her head until Emma was sure she was nearing the brink of insanity. Despite her exhaustion, she had not been able to sleep during Henry’s last nap several hours ago, and the sleep deprivation was putting her even more on edge.

 

She did not know how one so small could have so much stamina. Surely he should have worn himself out with all this crying after a few minutes. She knew babies were unpredictable, but perhaps this was a sign that something was off with him.

 

Emma peered closely at Henry's scrunched, angry face.

 

Did his eyes look wrong? Was that all in her head? She felt his forehead, and it was slightly warm, but that could also be from working himself up so much by crying. Still, he was not a colicky child, and this was unusual. Emma felt her uneasiness slide into fear. Something was amiss. She could feel it.

 

Then Henry started coughing. In conjunction with his sobs, it was heartbreaking sound, like he could not get enough air into his tiny lungs, and Emma’s fear turned to panic.

 

She marched to the door and threw it open, peering out into the hall. She spotted a maid nearby and beckoned the girl over.

 

“I need you to fetch the apothecary, quickly. And tell the first person you come across to tell the queen she is needed.”

 

“Why is that?” came a voice behind her, and Emma spun around to find Queen Regina herself coming to a halt in front of Henry’s rooms.

 

“I think something is wrong with Henry. The prince, His Highness, I mean.”

 

Emma was babbling, but she was beyond the point of caring how she sounded as long as the woman understood what Emma was telling her.

 

The queen’s face dropped immediately, and she reached out a hand to her son. She looked around Emma to the maid, who was still frozen in place. “Go.” Her tone brooked no argument, and the girl scurried away after a quick curtsy.

 

The brunette reached for Henry, and Emma handed him over willingly. His cries quieted for a moment, and Emma held her breath. Perhaps all he had needed was his mother. But then the wailing started afresh, and Emma felt her shoulders drop.

 

Queen Regina turned and walked back into Henry’s room, and Emma followed quietly behind.

 

“How long has he been like this?” The queen's tone was inscrutable, and Emma twisted her hands nervously in front of her. She explained everything, how he had woken from his sleep crying, how she had tried every single method she could think of to ease his apparent distress.

 

The other woman’s face was a mask, but her eyes gave her away. They were as dark and tormented as Emma felt.

 

They both fell into a tense silence, listening to the cries of the young prince, waiting for the physician to arrive. Emma hated helplessness almost more than anything, and the queen seemed to feel the same way. She tried holding Henry in various positions, walking and rocking him, but all to no avail.

 

Emma clenched her teeth as she watched, helpless. The royal family would never forgive her if she had let something happen to Henry. She would never be able to forgive _herself_.

 

No. She must stay strong. The physician was on his way, and Henry was not worsening. It would all be fine. She had to believe that.

 

Finally, after what felt like hours, the apothecary appeared with his flowing white hair and his brown robes. Emma left out a giant breath at the mere presence of the man, who had such a calming demeanor, it was impossible not to feel slightly better only looking at him. He was followed closely by a young man who must be his apprentice.

 

She immediately launched into an explanation of the situation while Regina laid Henry down in his cradle so the physician could examine him.

 

The physician inquired as to how long he had been crying, how he had been sleeping the past day, and a few questions about his behavior. Emma answered them all to the best of her ability, then fell silent as the man finished his examination.

 

“Just as I suspected,” he said, then turned to his apprentice. “Go fetch the tincture for infections of the ear.”

 

The young man nodded and hurried out of the room.

 

“Infection of the ear?” The queen’s voice was skeptical.

 

“It is a common thing in babies and children, Your Majesty. Nothing to be concerned about.”

 

“But how do you know that’s what is ailing him?”

 

“Wetness in the ear opening, the way he keeps reaching toward his left ear. It is painful but not harmful so long as it is not allowed to progress.”

 

He continued to placate Queen Regina until the apprentice returned and handed the small, corked bottle to the physician, who in turn demonstrated how to administer the drops.

 

“Put one to three drops of this into the ear once every other hour overnight. I will return in the morning to check on our prince. In the meantime, I will fashion a poultice to help ease his discomfort, and I will send my apprentice back with it the moment I am finished.”

 

“Are you sure that is all that is needed?” the queen asked, and though she tried to remain poised, her fingers were twisting nervously and her gaze kept flicking from the physician back to Henry.

 

“If I may speak freely, Your Majesty?” the apothecary prompted, and Queen Regina nodded. “This is a frequent occurrence in babies, and it is no cause for alarm. The fluid is not nearly dark or thick enough to be a true cause for concern.”

 

“What about the coughing?” Emma interjected, then blanched inwardly when she realized she had interrupted the queen’s conversation. Emma only hoped she would not mind, as they were both concerned about Henry and had his best interests at heart.

 

The doctor nodded patiently. “Listen to his cries. His lungs still have much capacity, and there is no wetness in the breathing. He has simply worn himself out and irritated his throat and lungs with the ceaseless crying. Once the crying slows and stops, so will the coughing, especially once he is calm enough to feed.”

 

“Thank you so much, er-” Emma halted, realizing she did not know the name of the man.

 

“Gaius.”

 

“Thank you, Gaius,” Emma said, and he bowed his head humbly.

 

“I am very grateful to you,” the queen added. “Is there anything else we should look for overnight that would be a cause for alarm?”

 

“If he has trouble breathing or his fever becomes too high, summon me. I doubt either of those will happen, but if they do, I will come immediately.”

 

The queen nodded distractedly, no doubt already planning the best course of action in the case of any of the symptoms arising. “All right. Thank you, Gaius. You will return in the morning.” It was not a question, but the physician agreed regardless.

 

“I will. Farewell, Your Majesty, ma’am,” the man bowed to the queen and nodded at Emma, then took his leave.

 

Both women immediately turned back to Henry, who was still crying.

 

“You may return to your chambers if you wish. I will remain here all night.”

 

Emma’s head reared back. “No,” she said before she could stop herself, and then her jaw clicked shut as she realized what she had just done.

 

The queen turned to her, startled.

 

“I apologize, Your Majesty. I do not mean any disrespect. Only, I thought I could be of assistance. He will need to eat once he calms. And honestly I cannot even think of leaving him now, not like this.” She begged the queen with her eyes to understand. Surely caring for the child would be something that would put her in the woman’s good graces, even though she knew the queen preferred to be alone with Henry.

 

Queen Regina closed her eyes for a moment and then nodded. “I understand. I only thought to give you the option if you desired. But of course you may stay.”

 

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Emma breathed, her shoulders falling in relief.

 

They stood in silence, watching the young prince, and Emma felt her uneasiness grow, regardless of the physician’s confident and calming words.

 

“Do you think-” the queen broke off.

 

Emma waited, but the woman did not continue. She did not even look in Emma’s direction.

 

A few moments later, the brunette reached down and picked up Henry, cradling him close. She angled her head down and murmured soothingly into his ear, starting to pace around the room. Henry’s crying continued but weakened in intensity after only a few moments.

 

“There, my little prince. It will be all right,” the queen murmured.

 

Emma felt her heart twist in her chest. While a small part of her wanted to be the one doing the comforting, her overwhelming emotion was relief at seeing Henry improve, even if it was only the slightest bit. Then the queen smiled at her son, and Emma thought she should turn away, the expression so fiercely joyful and loving that Emma was certain she should not be allowed to witness it.

 

Before she did so, however, the queen’s smile dropped, as if she had just remembered she was not alone with her son. Or perhaps due to the fact that while his cries had lessened, the wailing still continued, a testament to the fact that Henry was still far from well.

 

Emma watched for several minutes as the queen continued walking Henry around the room, sometimes silent, sometimes whispering words to him Emma could not quite make out.

 

Soon, there was a rapping on the door, and the physician’s apprentice entered upon Queen Regina’s command. He handed her the poultice, then bid them both goodnight and quit the room as suddenly as he had entered it.

 

Regina held the poultice to Henry’s ear as Emma stood, watching helplessly, fingers aching to be of service in some way.

 

She began pacing the room opposite the queen and her son, giving them a wide berth but keeping her eye on Henry all the time. While she was focused on Henry, there was a part of her that was wondering about her own son. She suddenly understood Regina’s instinct to banish her to her room. Even the thought of someone else being the one to nurse her baby back to health simply felt _wrong_ , even though she had never even so much held her child, and it had been a month since she had spent those scant few moments memorizing his wrinkly, red, beautiful face.

 

Emma did not know how long they had been walking, but Henry’s cries eventually faded to whimpers. The sound was so pathetic it broke her heart, even though she was gladdened that his pain must be lessening.

 

“I believe he is ready for you.”

 

The queen’s voice startled her, and her gaze dropped to Henry who was rooting at his mother’s chest insistently.

 

“Oh.”

 

Emma felt suddenly at a loss. The queen had always left the room before when it was time for Emma to nurse the baby, but she was certain that would not be happening tonight. She knew breastfeeding was natural, and she was not a particularly modest person. Still, it was an awkward situation, whether it was due to the fact that this was Henry’s mother, the difference in their stations, or simply the fact that they remained practically strangers despite seeing each other so often.

 

Emma sat in the rocking chair by the cradle, and the queen brought Henry over to her and relinquished him reluctantly.

 

Just as she was about to unbutton the concealed fastenings in the front of her dress, inspiration struck.

 

“Your Majesty? If you could, would you mind passing me one of the blankets?” Emma gestured to the cupboard across the room.

 

“Of course.”

 

The queen complied immediately, and she had a kind smile but sad eyes as she passed Emma the small blanket.

 

“Thank you.”

 

The other woman turned away and resumed her pacing, and they did not speak another word until after Emma had placed Henry on her shoulder for burping. She discarded the privacy blanket and positioned a smaller cloth underneath Henry in case any of the milk decided to come back up.

 

He still whimpered on occasion, but he was clearly too tired to do more than that.

 

As soon as he had burped, she felt the tell-tale lack of tension of his tiny body, knew he was finally near slumber.

 

She whispered to the queen, “He’s nearly ready to sleep.”

 

Queen Regina appeared before them almost instantaneously and gently took Henry into her arms.

 

His token whimpers died away almost immediately, and he fell asleep against his mother’s chest. She reached down and carefully placed him in his cradle, and his face looked more peaceful than it had in hours.

 

Emma breathed a sigh of relief. A small voice in the back of her head whispered that she should take this chance to sleep, but she knew it would be an impossibility. While her limbs felt tired, she was still bursting with nervous energy. Despite the physician’s dismissal of the idea that anything serious was wrong with Henry, Emma could not help but worry. Even the best physicians were not always right.

 

Emma’s revelry was cut short by the quietest knocking on the door. She went to open it, not wanting to disturb Henry by crying out, but the door opened before she reached it.

 

In walked Mrs. Lucas, carrying two mugs.

 

“I heard our young prince was ill. I thought you two would be here.”

 

The queen nodded. “‘Tis only an infection of the ear, Gaius says, nothing to be worried about. But I thought to stay and make sure.”

 

Mrs. Lucas hummed understandingly. “That is what I did with my daughter as well. It is hard when a child is ill for the first time.”

 

“He has been so healthy up until now.”

 

“That he has, and he will be again soon. All babies are sick at some point, Your Majesty. Young Henry will recover soon; he is as resilient as they come, I am certain.”

 

Emma nodded, feeling as though Mrs. Lucas had intended the words for both of them, even though she was looking at the queen.

 

“I know both of you will probably be here all night, so I brought some fresh hot cider.”

 

She handed one mug to the queen, then the other to Emma.

 

“That was very thoughtful of you, Mrs. Lucas. Thank you.”

 

“Yes, thank you so much,” Emma chimed in, taking a sip of her cider. It was warm and strong and delicious, and she had not realized she was so thirsty until just now.

 

“I can have some food brought up as well, if you would like?”

 

“I don’t believe that will be necessary for me. Emma, would you like anything to eat?”

 

“I couldn’t eat a thing right now,” Emma admitted.

 

“I thought as much,” the housekeeper said. “Try to get at least a little sleep tonight, both of you. It does a body good. It is nice that you are both here, so one can doze while the other looks after the young prince.”

 

Emma gave a nod but remained silent, and the queen did nothing but look over at Henry for a few long moments.

 

“Summon me if you need anything at all.”

 

The queen thanked her, and after the housekeeper left, they were alone once again.

 

They moved over to Henry’s cradle. The queen sat in the rocking chair that was already beside it, and Emma moved the chair by the window to the opposite side of the cradle.

 

She watched as Henry’s chest moved up and down, up and down. It was hypnotizing in a way, and she continued watching as she sipped at the hot cider.

 

“What do you think of Mrs. Lucas’s suggestion?” Queen Regina asked.

 

Emma’s brow wrinkled. “Suggestion?”

 

“That we switch off sleeping tonight.”

 

“I think I probably won’t be able to sleep at all. I know Gaius said he would be fine, but I, well...I feel more comfortable being awake and watching. So I know for sure.”

 

“We are on the same page, then.”

 

“So it would seem.”

 

They fell quiet again, each sipping from their mugs as the moon traveled across the sky and Henry slept quietly.

 

Emma was not sure how much time passed before the queen’s voice broke the silence. “You know, I know almost nothing about you aside from your name. I feel like I should get to know the woman who is raising my child. ”

 

Emma bit her lip. “There is not much to tell; I’m not a very interesting person. But I do love your son very much.”

 

“How could you not?” the queen smiled, and Emma laughed at the unexpected quip.

 

“You speak the truth. He is immensely loveable.”

 

“That he is. And handsome.”

 

“He is going to be the most beautiful prince in all the lands when he grows up.”

 

The queen sighed. “That he will.” She said nothing more, and Emma thought they were finished speaking, but then the queen said “Thank you,” in a tone that was honest and hesitant and not at all what Emma had expected.

 

“For what?”

 

“For caring for my son. I know it must be hard for you.”

 

“Not at all. As I said, it’s impossible not to love him.”

 

“True, but while I don’t know the specifics of your circumstances, and you don’t have to tell me, it seems like it might be harder for you than most.”

 

Emma swallowed against the sudden tightness in her throat, glad the woman was looking at Henry and not at her. It was as if the queen instinctively knew Emma would not be able to bear being examined right now. “Yes.”

 

“So thank you. I love my son, and I want him to have the best of everything. That you care so much for him speaks very highly of you.”

 

“Well, thank you for allowing me to. I know I was not the original person you had lined up for this position.”

 

“I did not have much of a say in things, anyway. It was mostly the midwife and Mrs. Lucas. I gave the final approval, of course, but they did not want to bother me with the details.”

 

Emma frowned. “Really? That is something I would want to know.”

 

“Well, there are different expectations when one is queen. And one of those is that while you are expected to bear children, sons in particular, you are not expected to actually want to raise them. You get the easy parts of parenting, and someone else gets the more difficult jobs.”

 

 _I would want the difficult jobs_ _with my son_ _. I would want everything._ Emma didn’t say the words aloud, but the silence conveyed them just as well.

 

“I am jealous of you sometimes.” The queen's voice was low, and she still did not meet Emma's eyes.

 

“Of me? But you’re-” Emma broke off, certain she probably should not finish the thought.

 

“A queen?”

 

The brunette finally looked up and met her gaze. Emma nodded.

 

The queen smiled, but it was a strange, inscrutable twist of the lips. “Indeed.”

 

“I suppose it should go without saying that I sometimes envy you as well,” Emma admitted. Perhaps honesty was contagious. Alone in this room in the soft glow of the lantern, both focused on the same goal, it was as though the outside world did not exist. The moonlight and the state of her emotions were working together to form a dangerous sort of truth serum.

 

“Trust me, you shouldn’t.”

 

“Well, neither should you.”

 

Then Henry woke and began crying, and the moment was broken. Though it saddened her to see him in pain, Emma was relieved he was awake again, because that meant they could administer the tincture without worrying about waking him up.

 

It did, however, make him angry, and his screams grew as Regina held him still in her arms while Emma put the droplets into his ears.

 

After he was asleep once more, Emma slipped her hand in between the bars of the cradle until she felt Henry's tiny fingers curl around her own, and the queen did the same on the opposite side.

 

The night passed slowly, and Emma alternated between sitting in the chair and pacing around the room. Usually she did one while the queen did the other, then they would switch after an arbitrary measure of time that somehow worked for the both of them.

 

Henry woke twice more, and each time they gave him the drops. Emma fed him if needed, and they soothed his cries the best they could. The second time, after he was done nursing, she went to hand him off to his mother, but the woman waved him back.

 

“You can do it,” she said, and with her earlier admission of jealousy still hanging in the air, it was a moving offering, the significance of which Emma recognized immediately. She nodded her appreciation at Regina, then proceeded to lull Henry to sleep, her voice soothing his weak cries.

 

After holding him for a few minutes to ensure he was deeply asleep, Emma placed Henry carefully down into his cradle. He started to awaken, and she reached out to place a soothing hand on his stomach, then felt a soft hand partially covering her own.

 

The queen had yielded to the same instinct as she had, and their hands lingered on the tiny prince until his breathing evened out once more. Queen Regina drew her hand back, her fingers resting against Henry’s again, and Emma did the same.

 

More time passed. Emma’s arms grew heavy, her eyesight bleary. A glance at the clock on the wall told her it was nigh four in the morning, and she did not know the last time she had slept.

 

“How did you come to marry the king?”

 

The words were out before she could overthink them. Regina glanced sharply at her, startled at the first words they had exchanged in some time, and perhaps by the subject matter as well.

 

“Perhaps that is too personal. I apologize. I was only curious. And talking will help me stay awake.”

 

Regina yawned and stretched in her chair, as though the words reminded her that she, too, was exhausted.

 

“No harm done. I am simply...not used to anyone asking questions of me.”

 

“I see.”

 

“It is also a story I assumed everyone knew. I rescued Princess Snow when her horse ran wild. The king was overwhelmed with gratitude, and he proposed. And now here I am.”

 

“That is what I’d heard. There was really nothing else to the story?”

 

“That was it, really. I suppose it helps that I am beautiful.” By every right, this statement ought to have sounded conceited, but she spat out the word as if it were an epithet. Emma hadn’t the faintest idea how to address this, though, so she focused elsewhere.

 

“You really did rescue Princess Snow from a crazed, galloping horse?”

 

“Mmhmm.”

 

“That’s incredibly brave.”

 

“Horses don’t frighten me. I worked with them for years. If you love them and maintain a healthy respect for their power, there is generally nothing to be afraid of. I knew how to handle the situation, so I did.”

 

“Still brave. And the princess is alive now because of you.”

 

Something not entirely pleasant passed through the queen’s eyes in the split second before she looked away, and it left Emma more confused than ever.

 

“There is no telling what would have happened. The horse could very well have run itself out and then come right back with the princess, safe and sound, and everyone would have been happy. Everyone.”

 

She repeated that last word softly, almost too low for Emma to hear.

 

But she did. Again, she ignored it. She did not know how _not_ to. There were clearly things she was missing here, things the queen was not going to share with her, not tonight.

 

Long moments passed, and the queen still had not looked back at her. Nothing of consequence had truly been shared between them, but Emma still felt that for some reason, this simple conversation held a significance to the queen. She knew she needed to even the balance, and she owed the woman an answer to her earlier question, even if only a partial one.

 

Emma took a deep breath and spoke before she could talk herself out of it.

 

“I had a son.”

 

Queen Regina’s gaze flew to hers.

 

Emma tried to continue speaking, but those words seemed to have taken the extent of her bravery.

 

“I’m so sorry. Truly.”

 

“No,” Emma shook her head. “No, he’s not-that is...He’s alive. And well. Just...not with me.”

 

The queen’s eyes softened. “You must miss him.”

 

Emma’s insides felt raw. “Every day.”

 

The other woman looked like she was about to speak again, but Emma held up her hand. “That’s all I can say right now. I...I can’t.”

 

“I appreciate you sharing that with me.”

 

“Well, like you said. You can’t have a stranger caring for your son.”

 

“No.”

 

“Could I ask you something?”

 

“You may.”

 

“Why _did_ you allow me to become Henry’s nursemaid?”

 

“As I said, Mrs. Lucas and the midwife were the experts; I chose to trust them, at least for a short while. I would have had you replaced in an instant if needed, but I think you know that.” Emma nodded. “But honestly, the more I watched you interact with Henry, the more convinced I became that you were the perfect woman for the position.”

 

“That is not true. There are many women more qualified than I.” Why on earth Emma was letting these words fall from her tongue, heavens only knew. She needed this position for her livelihood, and she loved Henry. She did not want the queen to second-guess her decision to keep Emma on. But she felt the compelling need to be honest right now, in this moment with the songbirds beginning their morning serenades in the darkness outside the window. The relationship between herself and the queen was shifting. If Emma wanted to stay here – and she did - their new footing needed to be on solid ground, and that could only be reached with honesty.

 

“I’m certain there are. However, experience is no substitute for love.”

 

Emma nodded emphatically. “That is the truth.”

 

Silence reigned once again, and Emma settled back against the padded comfort of her chair, keeping one hand carefully balanced on the cradle.

 

A cool spring breeze blew in from the balcony, and it was refreshing enough that Emma allowed her head to lean back and her eyes to close. Just for a moment. Maybe two...

 

* * *

 

Emma jolted awake with a gasp, her hand sliding off the cradle as she jumped to her feet and looked around, peering unseeingly at the clock and then back down to the two people in front of her.

 

The queen blinked up at her, startled, from the other side of Henry.

 

“What- How- Is he-” Emma closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then opened them again. “Is Henry okay?”

 

The brunette gestured at the boy still sleeping soundly despite her sudden outburst. “The same, I think.”

 

“How long was I asleep?”

 

“Less than thirty minutes.”

 

Emma glanced out the window and saw that the inky black sky had faded into a dark, purplish grey, but it was still a long time until sunrise. It was the truth, then. She had not slept long. Nor had she slept well, if the slight throbbing in her temples was anything to go by. Emma took her place in her chair again and looked back at Henry and his mother.

 

“I apologize if I scared you, Your Majesty.”

 

“Call me Regina.”

 

Emma’s brows shot up. True, the title had felt thick and out of place on her tongue after the informal, candid way they had spoken earlier. But she had not expected such an intimate allowance so soon.

 

At first, the queen looked nearly as startled by her words as Emma, but then she gave a small, hesitant smile.

 

“In here, I mean. Outside this room, it would obviously not be proper. But here, with just the three of us, I’m not a queen. Here, I’m just a mother.”

 

“And a friend.” It emerged almost like a question, and something hungry flashed in those dark eyes, something Emma only recognized because she had lived with the emotion so long herself. The queen paused for a few moments before swallowing and answering with a strange, wistful sort of expression.

 

“I do believe that might be the case,” Regina said. “Yes.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Any flashbacks with Cora (including this one) will likely contain violence and/or abuse in some way (mostly psychological), but it will never be very explicit. If there is ever a case where it’s needed, I’ll put an obvious TW in that chapter.

The morning after her eleventh birthday, Regina went for a walk.

 

She thought about the night before as she wandered along the path. Though her party had consisted largely of adults and very few children her own age, she had received many beautiful presents. It was so difficult to decide which was her favorite; her mother had always been generous with pretty things.

 

Regina was nearing the area in the path that was furthest from their home, just before the hook in the trail by the grove of evergreens, when she heard a high-pitched whining, and she was drawn toward it immediately.

 

She found the dog crouched nearby, its white and brown coat matted, its ribs protruding. Regina gasped, but it did not attack. It simply cocked its head at her as if to question whether she would help it or not.

 

Before she could even think about it, Regina was running back to the kitchens to find some food and a bowl for water.

 

She returned bearing a single piece of meat she had sneaked off the spit over the fire when the cook’s back was turned, as well as some vegetable scraps and water. It was not much, but she hoped it would help. Just looking at the poor thing made her heart hurt.

 

Regina ventured back to the spot again the next day and the day after, and the dog was there both times. By the end of the week, it looked healthier and nuzzled her affectionately when she returned.

 

She took to calling him Archibald because something about that name always made her laugh, and she thought the dog needed something to cheer him up. She took him to the creek and bathed him, careful not to hurt the leg she had discovered was injured. Regina began to talk to him, telling him about her days. Her lessons with her governess who never smiled, her secret desire to go to school with the village children who always seemed so lively and carefree.

 

Archibald would lie his head in her lap and listen for as long as she wanted to talk, her fingers trailing absent-mindedly through his fur.

 

Soon, an idea began to take root in her head. Surely Archibald could come live with her. His leg was better now, but he still never strayed far from their meeting place. He loved her as much as she loved him. But she knew Mother would not like it if she learned Regina had been keeping a secret from her. Mother hated secrets, though she had many of her own.

 

That night at dinner, Regina was careful to be on her best behavior. She did not even complain when she saw the boiled turnips on her plate. She sat straight and tall like the grandest lady, and she waited until the conversation paused so she would not be interrupting with her request.

 

Butterflies fluttered around her insides, and she bit her lip out of habit before she spoke.

 

“Mother?”

 

“Yes, dear?”

 

“I’ve been thinking. Do you think I might be able to have a pet dog?”

 

“Absolutely not. Dogs are filthy. They are for hunting, not for little girls.”

 

“But-”

 

“ _Regina_. Did I answer your question?”

 

She bowed her head. “Yes, Mother.”

 

“Do you wish to argue with me?” _You know what happens when you argue with me_ , were the unspoken words, and she tried not to flinch.

 

“No, Mother. I’m sorry, Mother.”

 

Regina clinched her jaw and tried not to cry.

 

“There, there, dear girl. Now, finish your supper.”

 

Her father changed the subject to how lovely the weather had been lately, and Regina gazed forlornly at the boiled turnips, her most loathed food in all the lands. She finished them without another word and excused herself from the table as soon as she could.

 

Three days later, Regina was sitting under the biggest evergreen with Archibald’s head in her lap when Mother suddenly appeared on the path directly in front of her, carrying her scary-looking magic book.

 

Regina yelped and jumped to her feet, dropping the book she had been reading on the ground, and Archibald jumped up with her, tail wagging, thinking it was a game.

 

Regina felt tears starting to well in her eyes, and she tried to blink them back. Tears were weakness, and they would only make Mother more angry.

 

Mother tilted her head. “Would you care to explain, Regina?”

 

“This is Archibald. I rescued him! He isn’t a pet, not really. I have never brought him into the house.”

 

“You have been stealing food in the kitchens for two weeks now, Cook informs me. Do you eat it yourself?”

 

Regina shook her head slowly. “No, Mother.”

 

“And what did I expressly say about you having a dog? A desire, I assume, that only came to the surface after you had been keeping this animal from me.”

 

“But I was just helping him. I didn’t do anything wrong!”

 

Mother’s dark eyes flashed. “You disobeyed me. You lied to me. You stole from our family. You are not a little girl anymore, Regina. You need to learn that actions have consequences.”

 

“I’m sorry.” Regina hung her head in contrition, praying fiercely in her thoughts that it would be enough.

 

“Do you love him?”

 

Her head snapped back up. “Yes. Yes, Mother, I do! I truly do!” Regina cried, hoping this would change her mind.

 

But Mother’s eyes grew colder, like a snake, and Regina trembled. It had been a trap. One she didn’t understand, but a trap nonetheless.

 

“Good. Then let this be your first lesson, dear. Love is weakness.”

 

Cora thrust her hand into the dog’s chest, pulled out its heart, and crushed it to dust, all while Regina stood with her mouth open, horror crashing through her. The tears she had been holding back overflowed of their own accord. She wanted to run away, but her feet refused to move.

 

“You say you loved this creature, and you exhibited horrible behavior on its account. You put it before everything I have taught you. You dishonored yourself and your family. That is not the behavior of a lady, and it is not a weakness that is to be tolerated.”

 

Her mother opened the book to a page in the middle, and Regina could not make any sense of the twisted drawings inside. Mother bent down to the dog, blew on the page, and the words and symbols became smoke that hovered around the body and then absorbed into it. The brown and white fur glowed gold for a few seconds, then faded, and Mother stood, satisfied.

 

She used her magic to move the forever frozen creature right by the bend in the walkway, so it could not be avoided if Regina ever wanted to walk along her favorite path again.

 

“Let this be a reminder for what happens when you put love before yourself and your family. And dear?”

 

“Yes, Mother?” Her voice shook.

 

“I don’t need to tell you what will happen if I ever discover this reminder has gone missing, hmm?”

 

“No.”

 

“Good.”

 

She was gone in a whirl, and Regina walked in her most ladylike fashion, slowly with head held high, all the way back to her room before she collapsed on her bed and cried and cried and cried.

 

* * *

 

After the long, sleepless night, Regina held her breath as Gaius inspected Henry once more. Though he was not long about it, the wait was agonizing. She glanced across the room at Emma, who was pacing back and forth, clearly as anxious as she for the results.

 

Finally, Gaius looked up and addressed them both with a smile.

 

“There is no redness and no more drainage. The ear may pain him off and on for a few days. To be safe, administer the drops I gave you three times a day for the next week. If no other symptoms develop, I would say our Prince will soon be fit as a fiddle.”

 

Regina felt the wave of relief wash over her.

 

“Thank you so much for your help, Gaius. You truly are a gifted physician.”

 

Emma nodded her agreement, and Gaius accepted the compliment with a mere, “Thank you, Your Majesty,” before he bowed and took his leave.

 

Emma and Regina were left behind with Henry, who was awake once more. Regina suddenly felt all her words desert her, and she inwardly scoffed at her foolishness. There was no reason to be embarrassed. And she was not, exactly. She simply was not entirely comfortable, either.

 

Almost immediately after their tenuous friendship had been verbally established, the conversation had grown stilted - Regina feeling suddenly shy and awkward and much younger than she had in a while -  and soon faded to less consequential things. Emma had asked about her favorite horse. Regina had asked about Emma’s favorite pastimes.

 

When yawns had begun emerging more frequently than words, Emma had suggested a game, one Regina had never played before. You thought of a person, place, or thing, and the other person had only twenty questions to deduce what the chosen subject was. Regina had thought surely a thing would not be possible in a mere twenty questions, and the first time, she had failed abysmally as predicted. After it was Emma’s turn to guess, though, she picked up on the certain strategic questions that effectively narrowed the field. After that, Regina mastered the game quickly.

 

It was all rather simple and childish, but it had been what they needed at the time.

 

Now she only hoped Emma did not regret her impulsive words. Regina wanted this woman’s friendship more desperately than she had realized, with a hunger that startled her in its intensity. It was an odd effect, similar to how it only took the smallest bite after a long fast for her body to realize it was ravenous. Regina had the feeling that, like her, the blonde did not open her heart easily. Regardless, she truly thought the moment had been genuine.

 

Truly, she ought to have felt wary of Emma. There was no real reason she should be exempt from Regina’s general suspicion of most of the castle’s residents. Yet she was. Regina felt inexplicably comfortable around the blonde, perhaps because she trusted the authenticity of Emma’s love for Henry. Emma was a strange contradiction of secrets and forthright honesty, but she did not behave in the manner of a spy. In addition, Leopold had his faults, but he did love his children. Regina did not think he would stoop to using a nursemaid to do his bidding, because in his view, her attention should be entirely focused on his son. Regina was immensely grateful in this instance that his children ranked higher than she did in his affections and priorities.

 

Thoughts of the king prompted Regina to look up at the clock, and she inwardly cursed. One of the king’s attendants had delivered a missive for her earlier, requesting her presence when Leopold dined at his usual breakfast time.

 

“I must go change before I attend the king,” Regina said, and Emma looked over at her.

 

“Already?”

 

“The king prefers to dine early.”

 

Emma nodded in understanding, and Regina gathered Henry into her arms.

 

“Be well, my love,” she whispered, and touched her lips to his forehead. She held there for a few seconds, just breathing him in, then handed him off to Emma.

 

“Send for me if-” Regina broke off, looking back down at her son.

 

“Of course.” Emma smiled at her encouragingly, and the openness of the expression prompted Regina to speak.

 

“I am so grateful you were here last night. I’m not sure I could have stayed awake without you.”

 

“You would have. You seem stubborn enough.” But the words were said with a cheeky grin, and just like that, Regina’s fears about the blonde not wanting to be friends were alleviated. Putting the bald truth out into the air like that had likely frightened the both of them, but their connection had been real.

 

Now, Regina gazed at the blonde who had moved to give Henry one of his toys. Emma was her friend. She felt a warm glow in her belly at the thought, almost a foreign concept to her. A _friend_. How strange life was, that she should gain a son and a friend in the space of a month.

 

Truthfully, it still hurt that Emma got to spend more time with Henry than she. But the sting, the part of her that had wanted to blame Emma for it, was gone.

 

“I’ll return later today.”

 

“We’ll be here.”

 

Regina nodded, then made a quick exit before she could focus on how hard it was to leave this room behind.

 

* * *

  

“Why was I not informed our son was ill?” Leopold asked once she had joined him at the table.

 

“Forgive me, Your Highness. I knew you were meeting your advisors until late and did not wish to be disturbed unless there was an emergency. ‘Twas only an infection of the ear.”

 

“And yet that caused you to stay in his room the entire night?”

 

Regina froze. Surely that did not mean he had visited her chambers. It had only been a month since she had given birth.

 

“I wanted to ensure there was nothing else wrong with him.”

 

“Surely the nursemaid could have alerted you if that were the case?”

 

“Yes, Your Majesty. Forgive me. It was only a mother’s foolish nerves.”

 

Leopold sighed and smiled at her. “I should not reprimand you for caring for our child. You have a great capacity to love, my queen. That is one of the reasons I chose you.”

 

Regina fashioned her face into a grateful smile and bowed her head, breathing slowly and deeply.

 

“You will sleep in your own chambers tonight, yes? I do not wish to come into your room and find it empty again.”

 

So he had. Her stomach felt like she had swallowed a handful of snow and rocks, frozen and heavy.

 

You did not deny a king if you wished to keep your life. Yet he seemed to be in an understanding mood, and he did not break his promises. If she could get through to him now...

 

“With all due respect, my dear husband,” she said, the words acid on her tongue. “You know I always enjoy spending time with you. But the midwife forbade to engage in, er, companionship until I am recovered from the birth of our son.”

 

Regina’s heart pounded. It was the truth, but she never rejected his advances. Never.

 

The cold flash in his eyes stole her breath, but it was gone in an instant, replaced by the benign kingly expression he generally wore. “You are young and strong; I assumed you would be healed. My apologies. I will give you another two weeks.”

 

He turned back to his breakfast, the conversation over, and she could breathe again.

 

* * *

 

Regina had put a halt to her magic lessons with Rumplestiltskin only three months into her pregnancy. She was frequently tired, too exhausted to exhibit the focus necessary to accurately perform a spell. Her body did weird things, and she would also have random spikes of energy where her fireball would grow ten times larger than she meant it to, for no discernable reason.

 

Rumplestiltskin had said the same thing had happened to Cora when she was pregnant with Regina, but she had continued regardless. She had enjoyed the unpredictability.

 

Regina had not. And she had not wanted any harm to accidentally befall her baby at her hand. So she had put a stop to it, promising Rumplestiltskin she would research magical theories from the tomes he had given her in the mean time.

 

Regina had been true to her word in the beginning. She had pored over the books in secret for hours, memorizing theories and stories and potion ratios the way she once had learned the proper way to address lords and which fork to use when at the dinner table.

 

But it had not been the same.

 

Without actually being able to use magic, the idea that had once drawn her to it faded away into less and less of a possibility.  Who knew if her magic would be back to normal once she had given birth? She would never be as strong as the witches and wizards in the stories, and Rumple had told her it was impossible to bring things back to life once they were dead.

 

Yet he had also assured her on multiple occasions that with her level of magic, anything was possible.

 

It had now been a month since she had given birth, and Regina felt like herself once again. She was tired from her sleepless night, but she was focused and, most of all, motivated.

 

Regina wanted to learn how to heal. She had only been training with Rumple for a few months when she had paused their lessons. She knew how to produce fireballs and do a few other simple spells with the elements, but that was really the extent of what she had learned. She had just been ready to graduate to the next level where she would start learning the more intense - and useful - magical things.

 

Including healing.

 

Last night with Henry had been one of the most stressful experiences of her life. Though less than an hour had passed between her learning of her son’s strange behavior and being reassured by Gaius that there was nothing seriously wrong with him, she had been terrified. The idea of starting magic again had been dancing around her head for days, but that experience had hardened her resolve. She wanted to be able to heal.

 

The desire had been all she could think about in that first stretch of time before the physician appeared. But she had known the idea was foolish. She had absolutely no experience with healing, and she was out of practice with any magic. To try anything then would have been horribly reckless, and Regina would never risk the life of her son or his wellbeing.

 

What she could do, however, was guarantee that if anything like that were to happen again - or, worse, anything more serious - then she would be prepared to deal with it. Magic could help her be a better mother.

 

Sitting alone on her bed, Regina called forth her magic for the first time in months. It was sluggish at first, crawling through her veins like black tar. She breathed and focused on her anger at Snow like Rumple had taught her, and she felt the magic quicken and intensify until her skin throbbed with suppressed power.

 

It was still there.

 

She could still bring back Daniel.

 

* * *

 

Regina stole the book the night after her mother ripped out her beloved’s heart. She knew her mother well enough to know that a mere hiding place would not be enough to protect Cora’s most prized possession while she slept; it had to be close by. It had all been surprisingly easy, performed in a haze of grief that did not allow for anything other than pain and determination. She did not fear failure or magic or the repercussions of her actions. She could only see the outcome.

 

She made her way to Daniel’s body, thankful it was still on their property, as she knew there was no way she could get past her mother’s wards without waking her. She flipped to the page she still recalled vividly in her memory, though it had been years since the incident.

 

She found the symbols she desired, blew on them, and Daniel’s body glowed radiantly for a few seconds before returning to its former pallor.

 

Regina breathed a sigh of relief that turned into a choked sob.

 

It had worked. Or at least she prayed it had.

 

* * *

 

Now she thought of his body, perfectly preserved, hidden away where no one would find it.

 

She only had to learn how, and she would be able to restore him once again. Then they could run away with Henry and be a family. A _real_ family.

 

She felt a small pang at the thought of leaving Emma behind, but she could make new friends. There would be no one to dictate her behavior, and she would be free to befriend whomever she desired.

 

She would be free, _period_.

 

She would be no one’s possession.

 

She would no longer be bound to a man who insisted on calling her “my wife” or “my bride” or “my queen” like he had to remind her constantly that she belonged to him rather than herself.

 

She could be Regina.

 

Just Regina.

 

She was glad suddenly that she had given Emma permission to use her given name. That small, unintentional rebellion gave her a tiny thrill.

 

He did not own her. She could do it. She could begin down that path again with a single word.

 

There was a small, hot twist in her gut at the thought, but Regina dismissed the nerves. She would not turn into her mother; she knew better. She imagined all the power that had been promised to her. All the things she could do for Henry once she was strong enough. How everything could be once her beloved was alive again.

 

So Regina took a deep breath and said one word:

 

“Rumplestiltskin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could not find anywhere in canon where Regina gave the specifics for how, exactly, she enchanted Daniel’s body. She said she put it under a preservation spell, but by the time she had trained with Rumple long enough to be able to do that, the body would have decomposed to the point where it needed more than mere preservation. So this is my explanation for how it happened.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My inner chess nerd had a lot of fun with this chapter. Hope you enjoy it!

Emma was unsure what to expect from Regina after their night of staying awake together, but very little truly changed beyond the fact that they talked to each other now. If Regina came while Henry was still asleep, instead of leaving, she would sometimes sit with Emma until he awoke again.

 

Emma found that the times Regina came to Henry’s room were her favorite, and not only because she was lonely. Emma was naturally a loner; it was how she had grown up. Yet there was something about being contained to the same set of rooms that made her skin itch if she stayed too long, no matter how cute her charge was when he cooed up at her. Once Henry was well again, she began taking him for short walks in the areas of the courtyard that had been approved.

 

She was brought meals three times a day. There were a few girls from the kitchens with whom she had been on amicable terms when she worked there, so they sometimes shared a piece of gossip or two before they left. Emma was not normally one to care which of the squires had been seen with whose wife, but she now welcomed any reprieve from the endless stretches of time when she had no one but an infant to keep her company.

 

Sometimes Emma caught herself dreaming about what her son would look like by now. He was only a few days older than Henry, after all. Perhaps he would start smiling soon. She had thought Henry was smiling the day before, but it turned out he was merely creating an excessively malodorous gift for her.

 

To be fair, if one could do so little, one had to take pleasure in the only ways possible. There would probably be a perverse amusement involved in making another person cater to your every whim, however disgusting. Not that Henry was even capable of such logic right now, but Emma entertained herself by thinking so. And he seemed to agree when she asked him about it. At least, he blinked his eyes twice, which was what she instructed him to do if he was in agreement with the statement.

 

Perhaps she should look into symptoms of insanity induced by isolation and monotony, particularly when sleep deprivation came into play.

 

Emma had also taken to making occasional trips to the castle library, which she had been given permission to use freely, so long as she stayed clear of the restricted section. Emma harbored no desire to see the private records of the kingdom anyway, so she was not offended in the least. She retrieved tomes of children’s tales for Henry and books on a variety of topics for herself. Though she was not the realm’s best reader by any means, she enjoyed a good book on occasion.

 

While these things were helpful for breaking the monotony of her normal routine, Regina's visits were always the highlight. Henry shared her feelings; he was almost always excited when his mother appeared. Emma did not have much of a basis for comparison, but she thought Regina might share their feelings, as well.

 

Today, Regina appeared carrying a chess set and set it up on a small table near the balcony.

 

“For Henry,” she said, affixing the pawns to their appropriate positions.

 

“I think he might eat the pieces,” Emma replied with a smirk as she cast a glance at the sleeping baby and ran her fingers along a smooth onyx rook. She smothered a yawn at the thought of sleep. She had been about ready to lie down when Regina appeared, but a game of chess sounded more appealing.

 

“Do you play?”

 

“I do, actually,” Emma replied, and Regina sent her a pleased smile.

 

“I was hoping you would say that. Would you care for a game? I have some time before I am needed anywhere.”

 

“Absolutely.” Emma tried not to sound too excited, but she probably failed spectacularly, given Regina’s slightly raised eyebrows and the amused turn to her grin.

 

“White goes first, of course,” the queen said, like she was testing Emma’s knowledge of the game.

 

“Yes, always. I suppose you will probably be claiming that side?”

 

“Well, I _did_ bring the game.”

 

“True. And I suppose it is fitting. You _are_ the White queen, after all.”

 

Regina pursed her lips and scowled at Emma without any true malice. Then she huffed and turned the board around so the white pieces were in front of Emma.

 

“As queen, I should not take advantage of my higher position,” Regina said primly, straightening the pieces so each one was perfectly facing straight ahead.

 

“As only a mere lowly subject, I am grateful for your incredible benevolence and generosity,” Emma said in a tone sweeter than a piece of molasses candy.

 

The other woman’s lips twisted in an attempt not to curl up into a smile.

 

“Yes, well, don’t expect it every time.”

 

“I would not dream of it. I will enjoy it while it lasts.”

 

It did not last too terribly long. Emma lost and Regina smirked, and Emma enjoyed every second even as her competitive spirit caused her to challenge the brunette to a rematch. As she did so, however, a huge yawn that chose that moment to emerge.

 

Regina frowned. “You need to sleep.”

 

“I can sleep later. I want to play chess!”

 

“I refuse to take unfair advantage of you. You should be fully conscious when we play, so I may know my victory is valid. Rematch tomorrow?”

 

Emma sighed but could not fight the woman's logic. And she _was_ rather sleepy. “I accept.”

 

Emma stretched out her hand, and Regina grasped it gently and shook. Emma had expected the queen’s palm to be buttery smooth against her own, but she had a surprising number of callouses for a queen. Then Emma remembered Regina's fondness for all things equestrian. Of course. She still had not seen the queen ride; it would likely be a sight to behold.

 

The realization dawned that Emma had been grasping Regina’s hand far longer than a handshake warranted. She flushed and dropped the hand, grappling for an explanation.

 

“Sorry. I just...I was thinking about your hands.”

 

Regina’s expression twisted into furrowed brows and a confused smile, clearly waiting for further explanation.

 

“They’re not what I expected. I thought they would be softer, but then I remembered the horses. Not that they’re bad! You have very nice hands.”

 

Oh, gods. She truly did need sleep. She would definitely blame this on lack of sleep and not the strange sensation that had taken up residence in her stomach at the other woman’s touch.

 

Regina’s smile was still a little bemused, but her frown had disappeared.

 

“You hands are exactly what I expected,” the brunette said in response.

 

Emma swallowed, trying not to be ashamed of her hands, coarse and well-calloused from years of exposure to the elements and hard work.

 

“Rough?”

 

The queen shook her head. “Gentle but strong.”

 

Just like that, the hot sting of shame was gone, replaced by a warm glow. She did not know how to respond to such a comment, so she merely shrugged.

 

“I should sleep.”

 

“Right. My apologies. I will return tonight after dinner.”

 

“Farewell,” Emma said, already rising to make her way to her room.

 

Emma dreamt of hands. She was blindfolded, and for some reason unknown to her, she was on a quest to find the pair of hands she liked the best. Some were big and small and hard and soft, but after endless handshakes she finally found the pair that felt right. Emma woke to Henry’s cry just as the blindfold was about to be removed so she could see whom she had chosen.

 

But she knew.

 

* * *

 

The next day, Emma was prepared for their chess rematch.

 

Just as she had expected, Regina was a very strategic player, and Emma played in a way that was just impulsive enough to throw her off.

 

This game was taking much longer than their first the day before. Emma made her move, and Regina glowered at the board and huffed a breath, exasperated.

 

“That move makes no sense.”

 

“Sure it does.”

 

“Why would you move your knight?”

 

“Because I wanted to.”

 

Regina peered at the board. “But your bishop was the one that was in danger.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Hmph.” She inspected the board, searching for a trap.

 

“How did you learn how to play chess, anyway?” Emma asked, curious. “You're very good.”

 

“I had a chess master who gave me lessons when I was a girl.”

 

“Really?” The few things Regina had mentioned about her childhood had been about training to become a proper lady of high standing, preferably queen. Chess did not seem to fit that description.

 

“Yes. My mother thought it would be good for me to play something solid and logical; she thought I was too given to flights of fancy. But unlike some of my subjects, I quickly grew to love it. I became such a great player I actually beat my master several times,” she boasted. “I am out of practice now, though. I have not played in a long time, and it has been much longer since I met a worthy opponent.”

 

“Did you never play with your parents?”

 

“My father enjoyed chess, but he was very predictable. He knew a few strategies and kept to them. I nearly could have played him blindfolded after a while.”

 

“And your mother?”

 

Regina kept her eyes trained purposefully on the board. “I never wanted to play chess with my mother. But yes, I imagine she was probably quite good. Likely better than I.”

 

Emma sensed she had no desire to expound on the subject, so she did not question her further.

 

Eventually, Regina won, but only by a narrow margin. They played again the next day, and Emma was victorious for the first time. Regina blamed the fact that she had been holding Henry and was thus unable to concentrate, but Emma preened away regardless.

 

The better part of a week passed, and they fell into an easy pattern of playing one game per day, whenever Regina appeared.

 

Regina was ahead by one victory, but Emma knew tomorrow would be anyone’s game. They were rather evenly matched, though they played by different methods entirely. While Regina was more strategic, talking of gambits and other terms Emma did not know, Emma was less logical. Honestly, she had taken to occasionally picking up a piece and setting it down at random, for no particular reason other than to see that tiny frown appear between the brunette’s brows as she tried to discern the motivation behind such an absurd move.

 

Of course Emma always had to see moves ahead. She did not play entirely spontaneously; the game did not allow for it. She also knew enough than to let Regina see what she was planning. So the random moves were somewhat strategic after all, even if a large part of her motivation was to see the queen looking adorably puzzled.

 

Emma looked up from her stew and peered at the clock, guessing Regina would appear at any moment.

 

As if she had been summoned by the thought, Regina appeared in a long lavender gown, shutting the door behind her. Emma immediately sensed something was amiss. The queen strode over to the cradle and picked up Henry without a word. She kissed his forehead and took a deep breath before she even met Emma’s eyes.

 

Emma let her head tilt questioningly, but Regina shook hers quickly in response.

 

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

 

“You don’t have to.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

Emma wracked her brain for other avenues of conversation. Snow had visited earlier that day, as she generally did a few times a week. She thought her new half brother was very cute but rather boring. However, Emma had already discerned from her short friendship with Regina that there was an unspoken tension there. The queen never mentioned Snow, but when the conversation did turn to the princess, Regina grew resolutely taciturn.

 

Emma was extremely curious to know the details of their relationship, but it was not her place to ask.

 

Instead, Emma remembered something she had been meaning to ask the queen since that afternoon.

 

“Is it true the knight Lancelot is not originally from the White Kingdom?”

 

Regina looked up, momentarily confused by the seemingly random topic of conversation.

 

“I saw the knights departing earlier today. Red mentioned that Lancelot was originally from another land.”

 

Regina nodded. “Camelot, yes.”

 

“Is it usual for knights to change allegiance?”

 

The queen shook her head. “It is most unusual, actually, especially to rise so high in rank after doing so,” she said, letting Henry play with her fingers as she spoke. “But on the day of their meeting, Lancelot bravely took an arrow that was meant for King Leopold and therefore earned his trust immediately. There are also circumstances contributing to his leaving the other realm to which I am not privy.”

 

“Ah.” Emma nodded. “Apparently risking your life gets you everywhere in this kingdom.”

 

“The king places a high value on those he believes to be his,” Regina responded, eyes downcast, and Emma knew she was no longer only speaking of the senior knight.

 

They fell into silence again. Emma longed to ask Regina what was wrong so she could help, but she refused. The woman was entitled to keep whichever secrets she wished. Emma certainly still harbored some of her own.

 

“I’m leaving.” The queen’s voice broke the quiet lull.

 

Emma frowned. “Okay. I’ll be here when you return.”

 

“No, not now. I mean the kingdom.”

 

“ _What_?” Emma squawked, louder than she had intended. She dropped her spoon back into her empty stew bowl, and Henry began to cry.

 

Regina placed him up on her shoulder and soothingly rubbed a hand on his back, shooting Emma an admonishing look before she continued. “I was just informed tonight that my presence will be required for the king’s trip to Midas’s kingdom next week.”

 

“So soon after Henry?”

 

Regina sighed. “Apparently I am needed for some reason. The king was adamant.”

 

“How long will you be gone?”

 

“Approximately a week, most likely. It is one of the nearer kingdoms. Only two days to get there, the celebration lasts three days, and then another two days for the return trip as long as the weather remains favorable.”

 

“Is there any way-” she stopped speaking, already knowing the answer to her unasked question, but Regina replied to her anyway.

 

“No. Henry is still much too young. He would be out of place, and even if I could simply keep him in my room all the time, I would not risk taking him on such a long journey so soon.”

 

“Oh, Regina. I’m so sorry.”

 

The queen swallowed, her eyes downcast to shield what Emma thought might be the beginnings of tears.

 

“I will survive. I just don’t want him to forget me.”

 

Emma clenched her teeth against the wave of hurt that washed through her, unbidden, echoes of a newborn's cry ringing in her ears. She swallowed back the feeling and focused on comforting Regina. “He won’t. It is only a week. You’ll return and see him again. It will be like you never left.”

 

“You’re right, I suppose. Still. A week. I don’t know how I will survive.”

 

Emma let out a whisper-soft laugh entirely devoid of humor, and Regina’s head suddenly snapped up, her eyes wide. “Oh, gods. Emma, I’m so sorry. I-I wasn’t thinking. I-”

 

Emma held up her hand to stop the other woman’s rambling. “It’s okay.”

 

“No, it isn’t. I was so focused on myself I didn’t even think.”

 

“Regina, the fact that I am in pain does not make yours any less real.”

 

“Still, it puts things in perspective. So you’re right. I should be grateful I get to return, and I am. I am also grateful that you will stay with him in the mean time, and he will probably barely realize I am missing because you’re so wonderful to him.”

 

Emma allowed the comment because Regina was trying so hard to get her to smile. She let the other woman’s words sooth the jagged tear in her heart, and it became easier to breathe again.

 

Regina turned her focus to Henry, tickling his chin and toying with his tiny toes. Emma picked up the book she had set aside and tried to read it, but she could not focus. She finally gave up and just watched the woman across from her play with her child. Every so often, Regina would glance at the clock on the wall, then go back to Henry. Another few minutes passed, and she did it again. Finally, after the fifth time, Emma could resist commenting no longer.

 

“The trip isn’t all that is troubling you, is it?” She was careful to phrase it in a way that allowed Regina to speak nothing more than a simple “yes” or “no” if she wished.

 

The queen sighed. “How do you do that?”

 

“I’m intuitive.”

 

“So you’ve mentioned before.”

 

“It is simply a talent I’ve always had. I can tell when people are lying, and I am particularly good at it when it is someone who is familiar to me.”

 

“That is quite the gift.”

 

“It has its moments. Look, if you don’t wish to discuss it-” Emma started, but Regina cut her off with a sudden outpouring of words.

 

“The king, he expects me to...” The queen broke off, and Emma waited.

 

Regina drew her lip between her teeth but then withdrew it almost as quickly. “He has not been in my bed since before Henry was born,” she said bluntly, and Emma winced in sudden understanding.

 

“Tonight?”

 

The brunette nodded.

 

The subject hung thick and awkward in the air. One did not speak of such things. Though the topic was more freely discussed in the lower class, Emma did not usually do so. Regina certainly did not. Emma was surprised the other woman had even mentioned it; she must be truly worried.

 

“ _I hate it_.” Regina said the words so quietly they were almost silent, but the fierceness in the tone sent a chill down Emma’s spine. The ice turned to fire in an instant at the thought of any number of things that man could be doing to incur such hatred.

 

Regina continued before she could comment. “It hurts. It hurts so much. And he calls out her name sometimes. Eva,” she spat bitterly.

 

“Would you really rather he concentrate on you?”

 

Regina shuddered, and the resentment in her eyes grew. “I would rather it never happen at all, but my preferences are a moot point. I simply...I thought he would wait longer, now that I have provided him with a male heir. I did my duty. Why must he continue?”

 

“Did he come to you often before you were with child?”

 

“Often enough. But why can he not wait a while longer? I have barely begun to feel like my body is my own again.” Emma nodded in understanding. Merely discussing the topic had caused her to press her legs together, her body unconsciously rebelling against the thought.

 

“I know what you mean.”

 

Regina glanced quickly down at her form and then met her eyes again. “Has it been long?”

 

“I gave birth six days before you.”

 

The queen’s eyes widened. “So recently?”

 

Emma nodded.

 

“Did you- Er. Never mind. I’m sorry.”

 

“You can ask. I don’t mind.”

 

“Were you married? Wait, _are_ you married?” Regina asked, as though the thought had just occurred to her and she was utterly flabbergasted at the possibility.

 

Emma gave a little laugh. “No. And no. I probably would have mentioned it by now.”

 

“You’re right. I’ve no idea where that came from. A lover, then?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I know it isn’t decent to ask. I only, well. I was going to ask you how you bore it. The...companionship.”

 

“I’m afraid I can’t help you there. I chose to do it.”

 

Regina frowned. “But _why_? Why would you subject yourself to such misery on purpose?”

 

“It does not have to be miserable. It can be quite enjoyable, actually, if one’s partner knows what they are doing. The first lover I had was quite good. The second one, well, both of us had consumed enough mead that the one time we were together was less than spectacular.”

 

Regina blinked, processing the information. “Oh. Well. It is not something I will ever be able to enjoy, I am certain, but that does answer some questions I had.”

 

“I am happy to be of service.”

 

“Could I...could I ask you one more?”

 

“Of course.”

 

The queen refused to meet her eyes, and a flush slowly crept its way up her cheeks. “This is probably silly, but I have always wondered. Do...do people of the same gender sometimes become lovers?” Her face was as red as a beet. “I only ask because my mother said companionship was something to be borne only for the purposes of procreation, and a man and woman are both necessary for that. But I know there are unions between men and other men. One of the lands we visited last year had two kings. And I...simply wanted to know.”

 

Emma gazed at the brunette, a tingling taking up residence in her torso as she tried desperately not to let the sight overwhelm her. Not to notice how the flush in Regina’s cheeks made her look endearingly soft, not to imagine how else a shade that deep could be elicited, given time and a soft bed. How her lush bottom lip was now caught between pearly teeth.

 

Emma had known for a long time that she was as attracted to women as she was to men. She had even kissed one, once, but they had both been young and inexperienced and disinclined to take it any further.

 

But this? This would not do. Regina was obviously beautiful; the entire kingdom thought so. But Emma did not want to be _attracted_ to her only friend who also happened to be married to a king. She gave herself a stern mental headshake and took a deep breath. A momentary weakness, nothing more, a fluke aroused only by the subject at hand.

 

“Yes, they do. At the tavern I used to work at, it was definitely not unheard of for ladies to proposition the other ladies.”

 

“Oh. Alright.” Regina looked up at her then. “Thank you for answering my silly questions. I must seem like a child to you.”

 

“No, that’s a child,” Emma said, gesturing toward Henry who was nestled happily in his mother's arms. “You’re merely a woman who had, from what you’ve mentioned, a rather sheltered upbringing.”

 

“You have no idea,” Regina said dryly. “So, you used to work at a tavern?”

 

Emma noticed the deflection but did not mention it. “I did.”

 

“How was that?”

 

“It was the best job I ever had, honestly. I mean, the hours were long and my arms and back and feet ached at the end of every night. But the tavern provided us rooms upstairs for a heavily discounted price, and I was paid decently.”

 

“Why did you quit to come here?”

 

“No one wanted to flirt with a wench with a pregnant belly, so I was let go after a few months.”

 

“And you wound up here?”

 

“Yes.” Emma did not mention the six weeks in between, how little she had eaten to make her meager savings stretch as long as they could last. How no one had been willing to hire an unmarried woman with a child on the way and only one reference. How she had wound up on the streets once again just before Red had come her way and everything had changed.

 

“Well, I am glad. At least you get to sit down here.” Regina said.

 

“And my only customer is much cuter than the village men.” Emma’s eyes widened as she realized what she had said could be misconstrued, and she quickly nodded at Henry and continued, “Is he not?”

 

“Of that I am certain,” Regina said, and Emma could not tell if she had read anything into the statement or not.

 

Once again Regina looked up at the time, and as she sighed the haunted look came back into her eyes. How Emma loathed that expression.

 

“I must go.”

 

Emma wanted to reach out and touch the other woman’s hand, but Regina had already crossed her arms, drawing in on herself.

 

“I hope it goes quickly.”

 

“Thank you, Emma. I shall see you tomorrow.”

 

She bid Henry farewell with a kiss to the forehead and handed him over to Emma, then took her leave without a backward glance.

 

Emma held Henry close to her body, trying to take comfort in his warm innocence. But all she could think of was the young queen, lying resigned and helpless under the assault of the man who claimed ownership over her, and Emma _ached_.


	8. Chapter 8

The following morning, Regina’s first order of business was to begin planning for the upcoming trip to Midas’s kingdom. She had made the arrangements prior to being informed of her mandatory attendance, so changes now needed to be made. She ensured an appropriate supply of gowns was ready to be packed, planned a menu for their journey, and composed a quick note to their head of stables.

 

With all of that accomplished, Regina took a deep breath and shifted at her desk, attempting to ease the slight throbbing between her thighs from the night before. She still had some time before she was due to meet with Rumplestiltskin. She was eager to get to the lesson, but she dared not let him know that. No, if he thought her too enthusiastic, he might take and use that power to make her do things she would rather not.

 

Then again, he had made a promise to her, and he seemed strangely honorable when it came to making deals. They had met twice since she summoned him back into her life a week ago, and neither time had he taught her anything that had caused her hesitation.

 

Still, it did not feel like a good idea to give him more of an advantage than he already had. So she would wait. As she stared at the clock on the wall, she let her mind drift back to their first interactions the week before.

 

* * *

 

“Ah, my favorite apprentice. Looking lovely as always,” Rumplestiltskin greeted, bowing with a flourish.

 

“I want to start magic lessons again,” Regina stated without preamble. This man always put her a bit on edge, and she did not want to lose her nerve. She had thought it through. She wanted this.

 

“What, just like that? No, ‘Why master, you’re looking exceptional today as well. What interesting tales have you to tell me from your adventures in the months since we last spoke?’”

 

“I’m sorry. I was only eager.”

 

The imp’s eyes glinted as he scrutinized her. “Yes. Yes, I can see you are. Itching for the power again, are you?”

 

Regina frowned. “Not like that. I want to learn how to heal people.”

 

Rumplestiltskin wrinkled his nose. “ _Healing_? Surely there are different powers that are more interesting to you than that. You are a queen with access to the best healers and physicians available. Why would you want to heal?”

 

“I don’t want to rely on them. I want to be able to protect and heal those who are mine myself.”

 

“Troubles with the young boy, then?”

 

Regina hesitated, not wanting to give him more information than required. “Not exactly. Nothing serious. But I want to be prepared if he were ever in true mortal peril.”

 

Rumplestiltskin moved closer, close enough that Regina's skin crawled with the need to move away from him and his inhuman eyes that saw too much.

 

“It seems you are determined,” he said at last. “Very well. I will teach you healing. On two conditions.”

 

Regina resisted the impulse to promise the man she would do whatever it took. He would have no scruples about collecting on the hasty words.

 

“What are they?”

 

Rumplestiltskin gave an approving nod. “Ah, so you do have a good memory. When making a deal with anyone - particularly me - specifics are your friend. My conditions are as follows.” The imp held up one finger with a flourish. “One: First I must assess where your skills are after months of lying dormant. Healing is difficult, and I prefer not to waste my time on futile efforts. Two,” he added a second finger, his mouth twisting slightly upward. “I will only teach you healing if you allow me to instruct you in areas you refused before.”

 

Regina felt her stomach drop. “Why would I need those?”

 

“You never know, dearie, you never know. One day you may be in a scrape and need such skills to get out of it.”

 

Regina pursed her lips. “Which skills? What do you want me to do?”

 

“Ah, ah, ah,” he said, waving a finger at her. “That is for me to decide, dearie. If you wish to learn to heal, you must first learn how to manipulate the human body in other, simpler ways.”

 

“I will not hurt anyone. That was my condition before, and I maintain it now.”

 

“Who said anything about hurting? I promise, I will not make you inflict any permanent damage on anyone should you not wish to do so.”

 

“I will never.”

 

His smile was slick and sly, and it made Regina’s stomach turn. “Do not be so sure. What about Snow? Does the thought of giving her a little pain not appeal to you at all? The girl who caused the death of your true love? Or what about your husband? The man who controls your days and your nights and thinks of you as his pretty little toy?”

 

Regina felt her jaw clench as she thought of his words, tried not to let the anger take over and make her decision for her.

 

But he was right. She had come to him with a purpose. He had agreed to her terms, would not force her to harm anyone against her will. She was strong. She would not become her mother. She would glean from Rumplestiltskin what she could, then leave him and his manipulative ways behind once she was strong enough.

 

“Do we have a deal?” Rumplestiltskin prompted.

 

Regina nodded and stuck out her hand. “Deal.”

 

* * *

 

Now Regina sat back down at her desk and tapped her quill against the surface, contemplating what they might do today. Her magic was progressing nicely, and Rumplestiltskin said she might be ready to begin learning healing as soon as the following month. She felt excitement bubbling up at the thought. She would finally be able to do something useful with her magic, and surely healing would bring her one step closer to being able to resurrect Daniel.

 

Regina’s next thought was that she could go visit Henry and Emma in the few minutes before she departed, but she disliked the idea of going to them right before her lesson. It felt like she was betraying them somehow by leaving them to secretly engage in magic, even if she was doing it purely for good reasons.

 

She would never trap Henry in a tree or hoist Emma up in the air until tears meant nothing and her throat grew hoarse from apologies. She would learn to heal and bring back the most decent man she had ever known. That would be her magical legacy, known only to a select few because she would not turn into a monster.

 

She refused to believe that was possible.

 

Finally, it was time for her to depart. Regina heaved a sigh of relief and ensured her lady’s maid knew she was taking a walk alone in the garden to clear her head, as she was wont to do as of late. It was a convenient excuse that did not warrant anyone's accompaniment.

 

Once Anna was excused and left the room, Regina was off to learn more magic.

 

* * *

 

The following days passed in much the same way. She saw to last-minute preparations for their journey. She met with Rumplestiltskin. She played chess with Emma and kissed her son because he had the softest skin in the world and her heart broke with the thought of not being able to see him for a week, maybe more.

 

(Sometimes an odd expression would come over Emma's face when she was watching them, and Regina could tell she was thinking of her own son. She thought about Emma whose child would never remember her, and she was still curious about the details of the story, but mostly it made her want to wrap her arms around the blonde and cry with her until all their tears were spent.)

 

When the day of departure dawned, Regina was relieved. The trip would no longer be a threat looming over her head, taking her away from everything that mattered. It was here, and it would soon be over. She could get back home to her son and her magic lessons and Emma and everything she was striving toward.

 

She could technically still summon Rumplestiltskin, no matter the distance, but it was too dangerous to perform magic in unfamiliar surroundings when she never knew who could be watching. It was a risk she was unwilling to take. Her skills would not suffer for a week's lack of use.

 

They were leaving just after sunrise, and Regina prayed as she padded along the hallways to the prince’s chambers that Henry would be awake for her farewells.

 

She heard his cries before she reached the door, and then she pushed it open and he was there, squirming in Emma’s arms.

 

The blonde looked a little haggard, shadows dusting the skin beneath her eyes, and she greeted Regina with a frustrated grin when she entered.

 

“Nothing is wrong, I hope?”

 

“Not unless you count your son and his preference to sitting around in his own filth rather than having me change him into clean underthings.”

 

Regina gave a small laugh. “One day I really hope he’ll outgrow that.”

 

“It would certainly make for a less than desirable trait once he comes of age,” Emma commented as she passed him over.

 

“Indeed. Hello, my little prince,” Regina softened her voice and turned so she could bounce him slightly in her arms.

 

Henry’s cries quieted almost instantly as he took in the change of person holding him. His eyes were enormous as he looked up at her.

 

“You look remarkably handsome this morning,” she grinned down at him.

 

And then in an instant, the best thing in the world happened: he looked into her eyes and he smiled.

 

Henry smiled at her, and her she melted. His lips pulled back and little cheeks dimpled and his gums showed, and Regina’s heart squeezed in her chest.

 

She had no idea she had gasped until Emma peered over her shoulder with a “Wha- _oh_. Oh, Henry.”

 

Regina felt a hand on her shoulder, and even though she normally shunned all touch, this one felt so natural she barely even noticed it. It did not seek to take anything from her nor to force her to accept something she did not desire. It was simply there, without a thought, supporting her as she felt her world falling apart and coming together, all at once.

 

“Look at you, beautiful boy.” Regina reached out and tickled under his chin, and he gurgled and continued grinning up at her.

 

Regina felt her cheeks aching with the force of her matching smile.

 

After a few seconds, her son’s grin faded into a yawn, and he was once again regarding her solemnly.

 

“I'll say. That was the best farewell gift I have ever received.” She spoke to Emma but never looked away from Henry and his solemn little face, unwilling to miss it if he decided to grace her with a smile again.

 

“How am I to compete with such a gesture? Less than two months old, and he is already manipulating the situation to his benefit.” Taken out of context the words might have been construed as grumbling, but they were laced with such affection that Regina knew she meant no harm.

 

“So long as I have your word to do everything we discussed, I will be equally grateful to you.”

 

“Of course. I will take him by the portrait every day so he will see your face. Did you bring the thing for him to play with?”

 

Regina shifted the infant to one arm and pulled out the cloth from one of the concealed pockets in her traveling gown.

 

“I brought a fresh handkerchief that has been in my wardrobe. It should have my scent.”

 

Emma took the white square and ran a finger over the intricately embroidered _R_ in the corner.

 

“Perfect. We have both of those covered. I was thinking, though. Would it be alright if I hummed your song to him?”

 

Regina’s head snapped up. She never sang in front of Emma. She never sang in front of _anyone_.

 

As if she knew what Regina was thinking, Emma ducked her head, but it was not quick enough to cover the dull red blush of her cheeks.

 

“The door to my chamber is thin. I can hear it when you sing to him. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I simply...it’s nice. You have a pretty voice.”

 

Regina felt the hot blood rushing to face and was certain that her flush now matched the blonde’s.

 

Emma continued in a rush. “Would that be too much? I don’t want to overstep, and I never sing it normally, because it is one your special things, but I thought in this instance, you might want me to?”

 

Regina thought perhaps she should be angry at the invasion of privacy and the fact that Emma had not mentioned it before now, but beneath her embarrassment the only other emotion she could muster was being touched and utterly charmed by Emma’s earnest ramblings.

 

“That would be wonderful. I appreciate it.”

 

“He would never forget you, but I want to give him opportunity to remember you as often as possible.”

 

Regina swallowed, closer to tears than she would deign to admit.

 

“Thank you, Emma,” Regina said, and she wanted to continue. She wanted to tell Emma how wonderful she was, more of a mother to Henry than a nursemaid, and how Regina was overwhelmed with gratitude toward her not only because of Henry but for her own sake as well. Instead, she left the words in a jumble in her head and spoke only in regards to the journey. “Take care of my son, and yourself as well.”

 

“Always. Have a safe journey. I hope it goes quickly.”

 

“As do I.”

 

Regina lifted her son once more and placed a lingering kiss on his forehead, memorizing his soft baby smell and the feel of his feather-light hair against her lips.

 

“Goodbye, my love. Remember me.”

 

She handed him over to Emma and could not resist running a finger over his cheek one last time.

 

Emma reached up her free hand and placed it lightly over Regina’s. Regina looked up to meet her gaze, and the blonde smiled encouragingly and gave her fingers a little squeeze. Emma’s hand was warm but not unpleasantly so, and she took comfort in this last bit of heat before she burrowed into her cold, lonely White Queen exterior for a week.

 

“You need to leave now. We’ll be waiting for your return.”

 

Regina nodded, afraid tears might fall if she spoke. She grasped Henry’s tiny fingers quickly and gave Emma a grateful smile before leaving for her journey.

 

* * *

 

The trip passed in a slow-moving blur. Traveling was boring and tedious and bumpy. Leopold napped the majority of the time, as he loathed traveling, something for which she was grateful. Regina could never manage to sleep in a carriage, so she attempted to distract herself by reading. She had found a book on the history of Midas’s kingdom, with which she was not as familiar as she perhaps should be.

 

It was fascinating, actually. The workings of kingdoms had always interested her, which was fortunate since her mother had put such a focus on preparing her to aid in the running of one should fate smile upon her. Still, the book could only hold her interest for so long before she let her imagination drift, wondering what Emma was doing with Henry.

 

Would he smile at her the way he had for Regina? Surely he would. He would probably be an expert at it by the time she returned; it would become just another weapon in his tiny yet vast armory of tools to melt their hearts.

 

Still, his first smile had been for her, only for her, and that gave her a warm glow that lasted until they reached the first stop for the noon meal. They arrived at one of the nicer roadside inns, as Regina had known they would. The owner welcomed them with a bow and a rabid enthusiasm that did nothing to ease the headache that had been creeping upon her.

 

Sir Lancelot and Sir Enoch, the two senior knights who had accompanied them while the other two stayed behind to look after the running of the kingdom, followed directly behind them. Leopold commanded them to dine at the same table so they could discuss the kingdom over the meal.

 

Regina quickly gathered that she was meant only to be included by appearance not participation, but she took advantage of the situation nonetheless. She welcomed information about her kingdom, knew it was important that she stay abreast of the happenings. It was difficult to do so when the king generally only requested her presence at the meetings where the public was involved. She had not even known about the problems in the East Village until today.

 

“What do you think, Your Majesty?” Regina startled under Lancelot’s sudden gaze, undeniably awaiting her response.

 

Regina cleared her throat. “I think the water supply is undoubtedly the culprit. As the well is contaminated, we must find an alternative way for them to get fresh water until we can resolve the issue.”

 

Lancelot nodded and opened his mouth to respond before Leopold cut him off.

 

“But enough about such matters. I am sure my gentle queen would prefer to eat her food in peace, without such off-putting topics of discussion,” he said genially, and the knight beside him nodded.

 

Lancelot’s frown was almost imperceptible. His expression smoothed back out immediately but Regina was sure it had been there. She felt a wash of gratitude for this man. She had always known him to be fierce in battle but fair and a good leader of his quadrant, and today he had increased even further in her estimation. He had listened to her, been ready to engage in discussion with her like she was an actual person with valid ideas.

 

As if she were truly the ruler her title proclaimed.

 

Perhaps the entire kingdom did not see her as merely the king’s decoration.

 

Regina did not look at Lancelot again but felt his gaze upon her for some seconds before he turned away.

 

An idea began to take root in her head, but she put it aside for another time. She turned to her soup, glad the broth was beginning to fill the empty cavern that was her stomach. She had been too overwhelmed to break her fast that morning, and now the simple fare tasted as good as any ambrosia.

 

Soon, however, it was time to leave. They thanked the owners, alighted back into the carriage, and went along their way.

 

* * *

 

They reached Midas’s kingdom right on schedule, and Regina was grateful not only because her back and rear end were more than ready to depart from the carriage. It would be seen as rude to be late for the celebration, and she had not allowed for an extra precautionary day as was custom, due to not wanting the additional time away from Henry. They had made the trip before without any issues, so she had not been overly concerned. Still, she was relieved and ready to partake in the celebration of Midas’s twentieth year of reign.

 

Everything went almost exactly as she had expected. The castle was full to overflowing with food and wine and royalty. People were positively everywhere. She was treated with respect and deference, if some condescension. The evening was full of eating, drinking, dancing, and discussion, and the next day was just the same but with the addition of festivities to make it even livelier. The cheers for the archery tournament surely must have echoed for miles.

 

The only thing Regina could not discern was why, exactly, her presence was required for this particular assembly. It seemed a rather typical celebration. Her question was finally answered the morning of their last full day in the foreign kingdom.

 

Leopold took her aside directly after breakfast, under the guise of taking a stroll through the gardens. His gloved hand was heavy and stifling on hers, and she longed to shake it off like a hairy spider.

 

Of course she did not. She held her head high and walked like a lady, as she had been trained.

 

“Today is the day you are needed, My Queen. King Henrik and Midas are close, so he and his wife are here though they rarely leave their islands. As you may know, we have not always been on the best terms with the Maritime kingdom. I have been wanting to explore the possibilities of working out a trade system of sorts with them.”

 

Regina only nodded.

 

“The last time I spoke with King Henrik was when my dear Eva was still alive. He was very charmed by her beauty. He seems like the type to be impressed with fine and beautiful things - which could contribute to his friendship with Midas,” he chuckled at his own joke regarding the king’s ability to turn anything into gold. Regina forced a laugh in response.

 

“I could not hope to charm him with my looks,” the king continued with a self-effacing smile, and Regina grit her teeth. “but yours are nearly beyond compare. With you by my side, he will be much more amenable to my ideas, I am certain.”

 

So she was to be his beautiful, enchanting wife. Again. It was not unprecedented, but it still stung. Regina knew better than to have expected more. She had not even expected it, really; she had merely allowed the smallest fledgeling of hope. The tiniest possibility that one day the king would see she had potential he was actively ignoring, if not stifling. Not that she had any desire to spend more time with him. But she could be of aid; she could have something more to do with her days than plan balls and other minor contributions. She could help the people maintain a fresh water supply and solve crop shortages and strategize about battles.

 

But no. Her beauty was her worth. Any other attributes she might possess were irrelevant. She was lovely, and for that, she needed to be paraded around and shown to the other royalty. She was not a ruler; she was merely a prize. And even in that, she was a sad, shabby replacement that would forever run second to a memory. She was worthless.

 

As she continued being led through the garden of pink flowers and golden statues, Regina felt a small, dark coil of hatred form in her stomach and sit, growing heavier with every passing moment.

 

* * *

 

By the time the evening meal arrived, Regina was so eager for their journey the next morning that she could hardly bear to sit still. She felt like a child, bouncy and anxious, and it was compounded by the fact that she had to hold it in and pretend to enjoy the concluding feast. She was seated near the eldest prince of one of the far kingdoms and his wife, and they were very kind. She was grateful, as the night before, they had been in the company of King George, whom she had never liked.

 

The conversation made the evening go a little more quickly, but she was nonetheless relieved when King Midas stood alongside his wife and daughter and addressed the crowd one last time. He talked of happiness and wealth, good food and peace, an end to feuding between kingdoms. Finally, he thanked everyone for their participation in the celebration and wished them all safe travels, for everyone would be departing at various times the following morning.

 

Once she reached her room, Anna helped her undress and combed out her hair, which normally relaxed her. It did no such thing tonight; her nerves were too strong to be soothed so easily. She dismissed the maid and climbed into bed regardless, knowing that she would likely not sleep a wink. She would still try, however; it was a long journey back, and she should be as rested as possible.

 

Eventually Regina drifted off into a fitful sleep, but she awoke some time later to the sounds of people moving about and talking in the next room. They were clearly trying to be quiet, but the number of voices rendered that almost impossible.

 

Something was wrong.

 

Regina put on her wrap over her nightgown and opened the connecting door between their rooms to see a group of no fewer than five people surrounding her husband’s bed.

 

Her eyes flew to the king immediately, but he was clearly alive and awake. A man who seemed to be a physician was feeling his forehead while another held his wrist.

 

The second healer hurried to her side when she caught his eye. He gave a cursory bow and then explained, “His Majesty was complaining of severe chest pains. We are doing everything we can for him. Not to worry, Your Highness.”

 

He bowed again and scampered back over to the side of the bed.

 

Chest pains? People died from those, did they not? If Leopold died, she would be reigning queen. According to their laws, she would rule until Henry came of age in another sixteen years.

 

She was not prepared.

 

Perhaps those should not have been her first thoughts, but that was all that swirled through her head as she allowed herself to be steered back to her room under instructions to stay there so she would be out of the way and not be unnecessarily distressed. They would come get her if anything serious arose.

 

Her second thought as she sat down at the small bedside table was that if Leopold died, Snow would be without both her parents. She felt a pang of sympathy for the girl and quickly pushed it aside. Her life was simpler if she pretended Snow White did not exist. It was easier than sorting through the mess of feelings that surrounded the princess.

 

She had to concentrate on the things she could do something about.

 

Regina picked up a quill and a sheet of foolscap and began composing a letter to Sir Lancelot.


	9. Chapter 9

Without Regina’s presence in the castle, Emma’s week progressed slowly, but it passed nonetheless.

 

True to her word, Emma took Henry to the giant portrait of the royal family in the grand hall every day. She talked to Henry about his mother, wondering what the queen was doing at that very moment. She waltzed him around his bedroom in the evening when she imagined the celebratory ball was taking place, and she hummed Regina’s song as they twirled. Henry thought it was delightful, and he flashed one of his special grins up at her. Emma danced and spun until she was dizzy, just to see that smile on his face.

 

She was, of course, rewarded by a tiny bit of spit up only moments after they stopped, but Henry was not bothered in the least that he had stained her dress, grinning like dancing was his new favorite activity in the world.

In Regina’s absence, Princess Snow’s visits increased. The girl clearly missed her stepmother, regardless of the woman’s feelings for her. She visited daily, holding Henry and laughing when he wriggled and fought valiantly to hold his head up when Emma sat him down on the bearskin rug.

 

Emma took out Regina’s handkerchief multiple times a day, letting Henry toy with it. They played peek-a-boo, with her dropping the light cloth over his eyes, then pulling it back up for the dramatic reveal. Henry was so entertained she could have done that on repeat for hours. She had no idea if this would help his ability to remember his mother or not, but she figured it could not hurt. One day when the week was nearly over, Emma waited until Henry was asleep before she grabbed the tiny square. Pretending she had not been fighting the urge to do so for several days, Emma held the cloth up to her face and inhaled. It would be pointless to let Henry continue to play with the accessory unless it still smelled like Regina, after all.

 

It did. The wave of feelings that crashed over her from the scent Emma had no desire to analyze, besides the fact that she missed her. More than she ought. Oh, gods, she might be in trouble.

 

Stepping outside onto the balcony, Emma shook her head and inhaled fresh air until she thought her lungs would burst. She still had a couple days before the queen returned. She would take that time to clear her head of any unnecessary thoughts about her very married, very unattainable friend.

 

Red chose that moment to peek her head into the room, and Emma waved her over. The other girl had been stopping in more frequently, as the staff was slightly more relaxed when the king and queen were not in residence. Mrs. Lucas still ran a rather tight ship, but she was willing to be more lax in certain areas so long as the work was still completed.

 

Red sometimes brought food along with her, but not today. Today, she was buzzing with news.

 

“We finally hired a new kitchen maid!”

 

“Congratulations?”

 

“Yes! The walking disaster we hired after you finally left - though I am not sure it was voluntarily - and I was afraid who I would get stuck with this time. It is bad enough to have to work with such a girl, but I have to room with her as well. But I worried for nothing! The new girl is perfect.”

 

“How so?” Emma questioned, amused by the other woman’s enthusiasm.

 

“Her name is Belle. She hasn’t really talked much, but she’s very considerate, and she brought an entire trunk of books she said I was welcome to borrow. On the down side, though, she snores. She’s worse than an ogre. I practically thought someone was cutting down half the forest last night.”

 

Emma laughed. “Maybe she’s part ogre.”

 

“Unlikely. She looks like a princess. I might just have to sleep with cotton in my ears or something. I must say, it’s a sight better than sleeping with one eye open because I’m afraid my roommate is going to steal my possessions and make off with them in the middle of the night.”

 

“I would imagine.”

 

Red talked about the new girl for a few more minutes, then moved onto preparations for the king and queen’s return. Emma interjected here and there, but mostly she let the brunette talk. She was glad the girl had a new friend. Emma had always felt slightly guilty she could not open up enough to be as close of friends as Red seemed to want.

 

“I should probably get back to my duties now.”

 

“Probably so. We would not want Mrs. Lucas hunting you down. She would probably yell at me for keeping you. I vow, one second she is one of the most comforting people I’ve ever met, but the next she's making my knees shake like I'm five years old again." 

 

Red giggled. “So very true. It was good to see you. I’ll come again tomorrow. Bye, Prince Henry!” Red exclaimed in a whisper, dipping into a deep curtsy over the cradle and blowing him a kiss before she left them both behind.

 

Emma laughed, the vivacious energy the brunette carried with her everywhere proving to be infectious.

 

* * *

 

The following evening, Emma attempted to subdue herself. She felt entirely foolish. But despite her efforts, her lips remained turned up into a smile, her step held a little too much bounce. Regina was coming home tomorrow.

 

Even Henry’s nearly constant whining and fussing throughout the day could not bring her down.

 

“I know, darling, I know,” Emma crooned. “I miss her too. She’ll be home soon.”

 

Emma felt her excitement level rising as the hours dragged along, despite her fruitless efforts to keep her feelings at a regular level. She simply wanted to be with Regina again. In a strictly platonic sense, of course. She had thought about it long and hard over the past couple days. It was only logical that she might confuse the different varieties of closeness. After all, Emma did not have much experience with friendship. The only person she had ever been this close to had been her lover for nearly a year before he abandoned her for an opportunity in a foreign land he felt he could only pursue alone. Therefore, she was transferring her associations with him onto Regina, even though such thoughts were entirely inappropriate.

 

She had only needed to clear up the confusion.

 

Emma harbored no such feelings toward Red, despite the fact that they had shared a room for several months. Then again, over the course of those months, while she had remained amicable with the brunette, she had never opened up to her. She had never felt connected to her like she did with Regina.

 

With Regina, it was different.

 

Simply not _romantic_ different. Once she got that clear in her head, it was easy enough to understand what had happened. She even laughed a little at herself. Oh, Emma, the poor little orphan girl so desperate and confused regarding human affection she confused simple friendship with something more. But she was little no longer; she understood now. There was no reason to be confused any longer.

 

After Henry finally fell asleep, Emma went to lie down in her own bed. She took a deep breath and tried to relax.

 

Just as soon as she finished exhaling, she was startled by the sound of a lone horse and rider galloping up to the front of the castle. Emma rose and moved out onto the balcony, peering around the corner to where a royal messenger was dismounting from his steed, letter in hand.

 

Emma’s heart dropped to the floor.

 

Something had happened. Had there been a carriage accident? Was Regina injured?

 

Emma restrained herself from throwing on her dress and hurrying downstairs. It could be news entirely unrelated to them. She would probably not even be allowed to hear it, especially if it was a message for the head knights who had been left as de facto rulers in the king’s absence.

 

Mrs. Lucas would come and tell her if it was about the queen, she was certain of it.

 

In addition to the fact that the woman was probably the only person who was aware of the friendship between the queen and the nursemaid, it would also concern Henry. That factor alone would be enough for Emma to know Mrs. Lucas would visit with the news as soon as she could.

 

It was not fast enough.

 

Emma paced back and forth, still barefoot, silently cursing the clock for moving so slowly.

 

Finally, a soft knock sounded on the door, and Mrs. Lucas entered.

 

“It’s the king,” she said by way of greeting.

 

Emma’s brow furrowed in confusion.

 

“He was having chest pains. They abated after only a few hours, so they do not believe it was serious. Still, the physicians advised him to rest for a few days before traveling, so as not to risk aggravating anything or having any sort of attack while on the road and away from medical assistance.”

 

“Was the queen okay?”

 

“The messenger said nothing of her, so I assume she remains in good health. She is young and healthy, after all.”

 

“So they won’t be home tomorrow?”

 

The older woman shook her head. “No. Another two or three days, it seems.”

 

Emma felt drained all the sudden, the extra energy she had been housing deflated in the blink of an eye. Or the beat of a horse’s hooves, rather. She ignored a petty urge to kick the wall like a petulant child at the delay, but she was also overwhelmingly grateful Regina was fine. She could happily wait a few extra days if it meant the queen was safe.

 

And wait she did, until finally came the day of the royal return.

 

The staff gathered in the front hall to greet them, and Emma stood toward the front of the line on the right side, alongside Princess Snow and her governess. The prince slept soundly in her arms, and Emma prayed he would stay asleep until they could return to their rooms. King Leopold marched through the door looking hale as ever, and everyone bowed.

 

Her head was still angled toward the floor when pale blue skirts flitted into her vision, and Emma glanced up just as Regina’s gaze turned to her.

 

Emma stopped breathing.

 

The queen’s eyes were lined with fatigue. Her gown was slightly wrinkled if one looked closely enough, and her posture suggested she was not unaffected by the long carriage ride. Still, she was the most beautiful woman Emma had ever seen. So much lovelier in person than in that oil portrait. No artist could capture her essence, the way her eyes lit up with the light of a thousand candles when she saw Henry.

 

She was already smiling in thanks to her staff, for this ceremony was short and rather informal, but a ceremony nonetheless, and it warranted queenly behavior. Part of that behavior included smiling and not ignoring everyone to go rush and take her son into her arms, which is what Emma knew she longed to do.

 

King Leopold spoke a few words of thanks and reassurance in regards to his health, then dismissed everyone. They dispersed, going back to their duties, and Princess Snow ran up to her father and stepmother and embraced them both. She chattered on for several minutes, never seeming to dwindle in either vocabulary or enthusiasm. Finally, Regina angled herself away and took the steps over toward Emma and Henry, leaving the princess and her father alone.

 

The queen could not take her eyes off her son, and for that Emma could not blame her. Regina swallowed hard, gently taking him into her arms when Emma offered. Henry wiggled a little, then settled into the new pair of arms without a fuss, still asleep.

 

“I’ve missed you so much,” Regina whispered quietly, angling her head down toward the sleeping infant.

 

Emma’s heart swelled until it felt too large for her chest, and she was close to tears herself, watching the reunion between mother and son.

 

Regina took a halting breath and quickly looked up at the ceiling for a few moments. She handed Henry back to Emma.

 

“Take him before I start crying,” she said.

 

“Are you sure you can let him go?” Emma joked, her voice low, and Regina smiled slightly in response.

 

“Not entirely.”

 

Despite her words, she handed her son over without incident, though the second interruption in as many minutes caused Henry to squirm in a way that indicated he was nearly awake. And if he awoke from his nap before he was ready, he would be unhappy.

 

“I will come to the room as soon as I can,” Regina whispered.

 

Emma only nodded in response, cradling Henry to her chest and bouncing him slightly as she walked back to the room. By the time they were back within the familiar four walls, Henry was sound asleep again, and Emma held him in her arms and paced away the time until the door opened and closed and Regina was there.

 

Emma was surprised by her sudden, nearly overwhelming desire, to run up to Regina and pull her into a welcoming hug now that they were alone.  Emma had never been a particularly physically affectionate person, preferring to keep her hands to herself. She and Regina had never hugged before. Still, the urge was there, but she suppressed it.

 

Emma compromised by grinning in the way she had held back out in the hall, her whole face lighting up and probably looking borderline maniacal. But when Regina’s face radiated a smile that neared hers in intensity, Emma felt less foolish.

 

“I’m glad you’ve returned. Henry missed you.”

 

“Truthfully?” Regina spoke in a hushed voice as she reached out and took Henry from Emma’s arms, cradling him close.

 

“Yes. He fussed more than usual, especially in the evenings when you always visit. We did everything I promised, though. He even started sleeping with your handkerchief sometimes.”

 

The queen cast a glance at the sleeping baby, and her face grew wistful. Emma knew she was impatient for Henry to wake.

 

“I missed you, too.” Emma spoke before she could overthink the words, and Regina glanced up at her in surprise.

 

Emma continued. “Honestly, no one else in this entire castle knows how to play chess, I vow. I was this close to teaching Red when I heard you were going to be gone longer than planned.”

 

“Good to know I can be replaced so easily,” Regina said, and she tried to pass it off as a jest, but Emma felt the hint of resigned bitterness underneath the words.

 

“Not even a little bit,” Emma said, keeping the conversation light, but not for one second letting Regina think otherwise. “She probably wouldn’t know the knight from the bishop. Also, she is not nearly as easy to talk to.”

 

Objectively, that was probably not the exact truth. Red was one of the friendliest, most open people Emma had ever met. Emma had no doubt she would be a patient and observant listener. She was probably the much easier person to get to know. Regina had walls so high and so thick most people could not even dream of scaling them. But while she did not open the door for Emma, exactly, she cracked a window. And Emma’s walls were so similar to hers that she knew just where to look, felt comfortable opening her own in response. Words flowed so easily between them, and in the weeks since that night they had become friends, Emma had become closer to Regina than anyone else. They both harbored so many secrets, it was likely they would never share them all. But that was fine. There was also a respect between them, a shared knowledge of the fact that sometimes life deals you a hand that is so painful you have to lock it away in the dungeon and never let it see the light of day.

 

Regina cast her a strange look she could not quite interpret, but said nothing, making a noncommittal noise and looking back down at Henry.

 

“How was your trip? Not too terrible, I hope.”

 

“It was just what I expected. I was not needed. Not truly. Not for anything important.”

 

“Do you want to be?”

 

Regina did look up at that. “What do you mean?”

 

“I mean, do you want to be? More involved as queen, I mean. Running the kingdom and making decisions and all that.”

 

Regina sighed. “I do. I truly do. If you had asked me before this trip, I am not certain what my answer would have been. I have always been interested in the running of the kingdom, ever since I started learning about it. All the possibilities fascinated me. But I think...I think I did not let myself want it, once the king made it clear what my role here was going to be. A lovely figurehead to bear an heir and be brought out at ceremonies.”

 

“So what changed? Why now?” Emma asked.

 

“You know Sir Lancelot?”

 

“I know of him, yes. We have not met.”

 

“You would like him. On the first day of our trip, we stopped to eat, the king and I, and Sirs Lancelot and Enoch. While we ate, the men were discussing a problem in the East Village, one I had not even known existed until that meal. Then Lancelot turned to me and asked my opinion on the problem. He wanted to hear my thoughts, to see what perspective I had to contribute to the conversation.” She paused for a moment, looking down with a flush. “It was as if he actually _saw_ me. It was so foreign, I did not know what to do for a moment. No one does that here. I am watched constantly. But I am never seen.”

 

“I see you,” Emma said softly, and it seemed like an inadequate way to answer such a long and revealing speech, but she knew Regina would understand.

 

The brunette’s eyes softened, her smile open and earnest as she replied.

 

“And I you.”

 

Their gazes held for a long, breathless beat, and Emma’s heart thudded hard against her ribcage.

 

Henry woke with a soft cry, effectively breaking the moment. Emma felt a blush creep its way up her neck and over her face, and she turned away under the guise of straightening the blankets in Henry’s cradle.

 

“Hello, my little prince,” Regina greeted. Emma retreated to her chair, picking up her book, leaving the mother and son to their reunion. Truthfully, she did not read a word, too distracted listening to Regina’s coos and exclamations of how big he had grown in her absence.

 

“I wrote to him,” Regina said after several minutes, and Emma looked up from her book, confused.

 

“What?”

 

“Lancelot. After the scare with the king’s chest pains. I realized that if he died, I would be reigning queen, making all the decisions. And I did not even know about a simple water contamination problem in one of the villages. I’m not prepared. So I wrote to Lancelot, explaining my position. I proposed that we either meet or write regularly, so he can keep me abreast of the happenings in the kingdom.”

 

“What did he say?”

 

“He agreed.”

 

“Good. I’m glad someone around here is finally showing some common sense. You’re brilliant.”

 

Regina laughed. “I think you exaggerate, dear. But I would like to know more about what is happening with the people, and I am glad this opportunity arose.”

 

They dropped the subject then, focusing entirely on Henry, who reveled in the attention of his two favorite women. Emma showed Regina how they played peek-a-boo with the handkerchief, and Regina did it again and again. And as they sat there together on the floor, Henry smiled and waved his arms, Regina laughed, and Emma was overwhelmed by a foreign sensation she barely recognized as contentment.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to give a huge thank you to everyone who has reviewed and left kudos so far. I appreciate each and every one so much! 
> 
> There is a possibility I might not get to update this story next week. With the finale happening, I will probably spend way too much time on Tumblr and Photoshop, and on top of that, Bout of Books is happening. So I will be spending most of my free time reading instead of writing. I will update as soon as I can, though!
> 
> Once again, thanks to all of you out there who are enjoying this story. I couldn't do this without you!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for taking a million years to update. I have been conducting a study on the effects of binge-watching Xena on being a productive writer. The results do not appear to be favorable.

 

Regina had never truly thought she would be running a kingdom. While she had enjoyed learning about the details of ruling, it was always in a more hypothetical sense. She had never particularly wanted to be queen, nor had she expected it to come to pass. Growing up, Regina had assumed she might merely marry someone of relatively high rank; after all, Mother would never allow her to settle for anything less. Then she met Daniel and fell in love with him, and the idea of preferring power over love was nothing short of absurd.

 

Now here she was. A month had passed since she had first made her proposal to Lancelot. They now exchanged letters regularly, and she had grown comfortable enough with him to even offer her opinions on matters when she felt she was sufficiently informed to do so.

 

She enjoyed it.

 

Yet at the same time, she was frustrated by the whole arrangement. Her pride cringed at the thought of her ideas being passed off as another’s. She longed to be seen as a true person with a functioning brain and valid opinions. Still, she would prefer Leopold continue to ignore her, for the alternative was to spend more time with him, when every second within his presence made her skin crawl. The secret thrill of power at what she was doing right under her husband’s nose did not make up for the underlying burn of resentment that such lengths were necessary at all. Nor did they help her ignore the fact that this was not what she wanted to be doing with her life in the first place.

 

Her first priority should be Daniel, yet she found the idea of bringing him back slipping further and further away from her grasp. She was no closer to finding a cure for him. She had spent hours searching the library for any magical books she had overlooked in the past, but found none. She had grown so desperate that she had asked Rumpelstiltskin, careful to couch it in hypotheticals so he would not catch on to how relevant and real the question actually was to her. When he had assured her that no person, once dead, could be resurrected, she had cried the entire afternoon, until her face was puffy and Emma had inquired after her wellbeing that night when she had checked on Henry.

 

She had not, of course, told the truth. It hurt her to lie to Emma, for the girl had grown into the closest friend Regina had ever known.

 

Yet no one could know about Daniel. _No one_. If Regina succeeded in her endeavor, she would have to disappear with Daniel and Henry in an instant. She had already worked out the plan. But Emma could not know. Leopold would be furious, and when Leopold’s ire was raised, his tone became quieter, that tiny, perpetual smile still sitting on his lips, but his eyes froze in a way that told you exactly what he was capable of.

 

She would know.

 

Just as she knew the lengths to which he would go to find her. She knew for sure he would question Emma. And she would have to ensure Emma knew absolutely nothing; it was her only chance of staying safe. If the king had any indication that she had known about Regina’s plan, she would be executed.

 

Regina could never do anything to endanger Emma like that.

 

So a secret it must remain, no matter how many times she longed to spill her soul to the blonde.

 

Sometimes she missed Daniel so much her heart felt like it would simply stop beating from the pain. However, those days were fewer and farther between now than they had ever been, and one day Regina dug out Daniel’s ring from the bottom of her jewelry box where she kept it hidden. To remind herself. She could not forget him. She would never let herself forget him. She would keep working until she could find a way to free him again, no matter how long it took. He deserved it. He was too good a person to be taken so young.

 

She kissed the ring and wrapped it up in a cloth and tucked it away again underneath never-worn bracelets and necklaces.

 

For now, she would do what she could. And that meant Rumplestiltskin.

 

Today was the day he had promised to start teaching her healing. Finally. His earlier stipulations to their deal weighed heavily on her, but he had not yet tried to teach her anything she had previously refused. Regina hoped that meant he had abandoned the idea, but she also knew it was likely he was simply biding his time.

 

She made the trek to their predetermined meeting spot, and the imp appeared directly in front of her before she could even say his name.

 

It was disconcerting how he could do that. Surely he had not been waiting for her. She was early, and she would have seen him. But the alternative, that he could sense or see her comings and goings in some eerie fashion, was simply too absurd - and disturbing - to contemplate.

 

He must have been waiting. Invisible, just because he could. Sometimes he liked to play with his own power. It was one of the reasons she remained so wary of him. She wanted her magic to be a support, a help when she needed it. She did not ever want to reach the point where it became a weapon or, perhaps worse, a toy.

 

“Welcome, welcome. Are you ready for the Big Day?” he asked with a twisted grin.

 

“Indeed. I have waited long enough.”

 

“Tsk tsk. Impatient, dearie. All things in good time. And today just so happened to be the perfect time.”

 

She felt a tug of suspicion. “What is so special about this date?”

 

“Oh, nothing, nothing. I simply meant your skills have finally reached the point where it would not be utterly futile to attempt to teach you healing. But you have arrived. My protégé!” he exclaimed, the syllables rolling off his tongue with a flourish. “I am so proud. I can sense your excitement. This is what you have wanted all along, is it not?”

 

“You know it is.” And it was true. She had wanted this from the beginning, and now that the time was here, her stomach was jumping. She was excited, but his manner was also making her slightly nervous. Something about him felt off today.

 

“Are you ready?”

 

“Always.”

 

Rumple wiggled his eyebrows. “Then we shall begin.”

 

He said nothing further and made no more movements, simply stood there, staring at her.

 

“What? Aren’t we going to start?” The uneasy feeling was growing.

 

He giggled. “Oh, we’re already starting.”

 

Regina felt her brow wrinkle in confusion, but before she could question him further, a bird flew into the small clearing and landed on Rumple’s shoulder.

 

It was a blue bird, its song clear and lovely, cerulean feathers gleaming with health.

 

“Ahh, here we are.”

 

“Is this your new pet? I thought you were going to teach me healing, not how to become a pirate.” Regina’s annoyance and impatience worked together to loosen her tongue, voicing the sarcasm she normally would have kept private.

 

Thankfully, Rumple did not appear angry; on the contrary, he threw his head back and laughed, the sound high and unnerving.

 

“There is your spirit. Now, we shall begin.” He reached up, and the bird hopped onto his finger. He extended the hand in her direction, until the bird hovered only a foot away from her.

 

Realization dawned, and dread pooled in her stomach. Surely she was wrong.

 

“What are you doing? That bird is healthy. He needs no healing,” she said, forcing what she hoped sounded like innocent confusion into her tone, a gentle smile onto her lips.

 

“Not yet, no.”

 

And Regina felt the smile slide off her face as she stepped back, could not keep the horror from dawning on her features.

 

“I am not harming that bird.”

 

“I had no idea you had such strong feelings toward our aviary friends.”

 

“I don’t.” In fact, she did not tend to like them very much, as they reminded her of Snow White, who always had birds following her around when she went outdoors. “I simply fail to see why this is necessary.”

 

Rumple sighed. “Did you imagine we would jump over to the nearest sick house and heal the first soul we found? Do you think they would keep silent? I did not know you were ready for the world to know your deep, dark secret, dearie.”

 

Regina clenched her jaw. She had not thought about it, not truly. She had been so focused on the end objective she had not even considered the means she would have to utilize to get there. “Surely there must be a way. We could find an animal that is already hurt, for instance. It would not take long in these woods, I am certain.”

 

“And where would be the fun in that?” the imp asked, squinting.

 

“ _Fun_?”

 

“I realize the concept must be a foreign one to you, Your Majesty. Or is it? Surely you must enjoy yourself every now and again. You have your son now. Not to mention your _Emma_.”

 

Regina’s breath caught. She had never, not once, mentioned Emma to him; she had been extremely diligent in her efforts not to. She was aware that Rumple knew things, that he had many secret avenues to gather information for his benefit. But it was one thing to know this in theory. It was another to have the evidence waved in front of her so blatantly.

 

It also made her wonder if he had not seen right through her query about raising someone from the dead. About Daniel.

 

“Emma?” Regina strove to keep her tone unconcerned. “Henry’s nursemaid? What has she to do with anything?”

 

“Have you never had fun with her?”

 

Regina pushed one shoulder up in a careless shrug. “We have played chess a few times. She is a decent opponent. I do not believe she is in need of any healing, though.” She attempted to bring the subject back around.

 

“Ah, that would be where you’re wrong, dearie. But never mind, never mind. We have a better opportunity on hand already.” Rumple giggled and waved his own hand, on which the small blue bird was still perched. “I believe this bird is a favorite of Snow’s actually,” he said, the comment sounding offhand, but no doubt calculated. She was beginning to think this man never breathed a single breath without first thinking of the consequences and benefits.

 

“I will not hurt the creature.”

 

Something darker than dark flashed in those inhuman eyes for an instant before he returned to normal and tilted his head to the side. Regina’s blood ran cold.

 

“You need to develop a stronger stomach, dearie. I am starting to think you may only be a child after all.”

 

“I am not!” It flew from her lips before she could stop it.

 

Those lips quirked, and Regina berated herself for her instinctual outcry. She hated being dismissed more than anything, and he knew it.

 

“Perhaps not. But how do you expect to grow in magic when you refuse so many parts of it? It’s all or nothing, dearie. Oh, you may be able to do a fireball and a few paltry spells, but you’ll never have the power you will if you embraced everything.”

 

“Power is not more important than my principles. I can do enough.”

 

“For now, perhaps. But healing is so…” he wrinkled nose. “ _light_. You need a touch of darkness to balance it out. What kind of master would I be if I neglected to give you a fully rounded education?” The imp paused, leaning forward like he had a secret. “Just wait until I show you how to take hearts.”

 

Regina could not help her gasp.

 

“Oh, come now, dearie. You knew it was not going to be all fun and games with me. Well, not from your perspective, at least. Not yet.”

 

“Never,” Regina spat the word.

 

“Yes, yes, you will never harm anyone, I know.” He waved a hand at the pesky detail.

 

“We made a deal.”

 

“If you want something that is pure light, then you’re in the wrong business, dearie. Besides, I am not asking you to take a heart now. I know you would never do such a thing. Only break a bone. Birds are easier. Their bones are lighter, hollow, much easier to mend than human. If you cannot heal this bird, how do you expect to be able to save the life of your son?”

 

His logic was flawed. Somewhere, deep down, she knew it, she could feel it, but somehow what he was saying made sense. And surely she put Henry’s safety over that of this bird.

“I will even use a spell to numb the wing so he will feel no pain.”

 

Regina bit her lip. If the bird could not feel it, there would probably be no harm. She would heal it immediately. As far as the bird knew, he would just be sitting there keeping them company.

 

Agreement was on the tip of her tongue when suddenly all she could see was the memory of her mother reaching into Archibald’s chest and pulling out the little dog’s heart, and she stepped back.

 

“ _No_. No. I won’t do it. I refuse.”

 

“Well, if that is your decision…”

 

“It is.”

 

“Very well.”

 

The imp snapped his fingers and was gone the next instant.

 

She waited in the clearing until the sun was high in the sky, but he never reappeared.

 

* * *

Regina returned to her chambers only to find Anna waiting with a message that she had a visitor. The midwife was there to see her.

 

Regina sighed. She was in no mood to deal with company after her meeting with Rumple. She had made the right decision, she knew. But that did not stop the doubt that kept whispering through her head, nor the fact that she was nearly crawling out of her skin in frustration that she was no closer to learning how to heal.

 

Still, the midwife was one of the people she at least found tolerable. The woman was annoyingly cheerful the majority of the time, but she spoke directly and played no games, which Regina appreciated.

 

She gestured for Anna to lead the woman into the receiving area just outside her bedroom chambers.

 

“Your Majesty.” The midwife greeted her with a curtsy, and Regina was still confused regarding the purpose of the woman’s visit.

 

She asked as much as soon as the pleasantries were over, and the woman nodded.

 

“I understand I was unexpected, and I apologize. However, I am merely here to ensure you are recovered sufficiently from birth. I have some questions for you, but they are of a rather intimate nature if you would rather us be alone.”

 

Regina nodded at Anna, dismissing her, and the other woman left them.

 

“Do you truly need to ask more questions than you did last month after my examination? I thought you had said I was recovering well.”

 

“You were. I was not being entirely truthful just now. I did not want to be until we could be alone.”

 

Regine frowned. “Truthful regarding what?”

 

“I have an herb, if it would interest you,” the woman said, drawing out a small muslin bag from a concealed pocket in her dress. “It would ensure your monthly courses continue unimpeded.”

 

“I have not had a problem with my courses.”

 

“I am not speaking of irregularity, Your Majesty. The herb prevents pregnancy.”

 

Regina felt her eyes widen. “Truly?”

 

Surely such a thing did not exist. Perhaps she had wished it into being. She blinked, but the woman was still standing before her, bag in hand.

 

“Indeed.  It is not a thing that if often spoken of, for obvious reasons, but women have taken it for years. Those of high rank especially, once they have borne a male heir. Now that you have, I thought to offer it to you.”

 

“I would appreciate it.” Regina was relieved to hear that her voice sounded much more composed than she felt. Now that Leopold had begun visiting her bed again, she was terrified she would conceive once more. She had heard once that you should prop your legs and hips up on a pillow if you wanted to get pregnant, so she had taken to walking around her room for hours after Leopold left, willing nothing to take root in her womb, often not sleeping the rest of the night.

 

If she had a way to ensure another pregnancy was not possible...her body felt lighter at the mere thought.

 

Regina began to hold her hand out, then paused as a thought occurred to her.

 

“Would it be permanent?”

 

“Oh, no. It is merely temporary. You take a pinch and brew it into a tea, to be taken up to to twelve hours before or after the intimate act. Any more than that, and it cannot be guaranteed to be effective.”

 

Regina nodded, extending her hand for the proffered bag. She held it up to her nose and sniffed, the aroma strong and bitter.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“You are welcome. Should you run low, simply send me a message, and I will return with more. I grow and dry the herbs myself. I trust I do not have to warn you that these methods are not accepted by all. Please do not tell the king I offered it to you. There are many women I would not be able to help should I wind up at the wrong end of a rope.”

 

Regina recoiled at the thought. “Of course not.”

 

She thought of Emma, alone and pregnant and without work due to her condition, of the other women who found themselves in similar circumstances.

 

“Good. Thank you, Your Majesty.”

 

The woman left, and Regina hurried to her room to hide the small bag before Anna could return.

 

At least one good thing had happened today. Regina felt some of the bounce in her step fade away as she once again thought back to the meeting with Rumple. She did not know when they would meet next, or what would happen when they did. But there was no use worrying about that now. A glance at the clock told her she had over an hour before she had anywhere else to be.

 

Regina turned down the corridor that led to Emma and Henry.

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m terribly sorry for the long wait. Life has been crazy, and I’ve been fighting writer’s block. In good news, I’ve gotten a ton of the rest of the story written/mapped out already. However, Swan Queen Week and SQBB are coming up, and I am fully participating in both. This fic means too much to me to try to rush to get it all up. I would rather take longer and try to keep it something I’m somewhat proud of. So I apologize for all the delays, but I have every intention of finishing this story, no matter how long it takes. Thank you so much for your continued support in this endeavor. (That sounded like the ending to a terrible work email, but I truly do mean it. ♥)

Emma awoke on her own, rather than to Henry’s cries. As she blinked out at the sun streaming in through her window, she tried to orient herself. She felt more rested than usual, her body unaccustomed to sleeping until its need for such was fulfilled.

 

She heard a low murmur through the door she always left cracked open when both she and Henry were sleeping. Ah, Regina. That would explain why Henry’s wails had not been the first sound to penetrate her consciousness.

 

Emma took a deep breath and stretched her arms above her head. Henry’s sleep patterns had been growing more regular, and he slept through a fairly large portion of the night, relatively speaking. Even with this improvement, however, her body still craved sleep more often than not. Given the brightness of the sun in the sky, she could not have slept more than a few hours, but it was still a welcome gift.

 

Now an even better gift awaited her. Emma maneuvered herself to the edge of the bed and slipped on her serviceable blue dress over her shift. She smiled as she heard Henry’s babbling through the door, and she moved to peer through the crack into the next room. Regina was sitting on the rocking chair with Henry in her arms.

 

“You’re such a smart boy, aren’t you? You’re probably going to be saying full sentences before next week.”

 

Henry just smiled back up at her and happily babbled more nonsense syllables.

 

Emma huffed a gentle laugh and opened the door, stepping through fully before she commented, “He will likely be talking circles around us in no time.”

 

Regina’s head whipped around at the sound of her voice, and she greeted Emma with a smile.

 

“Good morning.”

 

Emma frowned. “Is it still morning?” she asked, peering out the window in confusion, blinking a few times to get the remaining haze of sleep from her gaze.

 

“‘Twas a figure of speech.”

 

At that moment, Emma’s stomach let out a loud rumble that confirmed the fact that it was, in fact, past the time she normally would have eaten the noon meal.

 

Regina’s lips twitched, and Emma looked around for the tray one of the maids should have left with her food. Regina gestured to the table near the balcony, where the tray sat next to the chess set. The fare was simple, but the bread was fresh, the meat and cheese not even close to being spoiled, and there was even a mug of apple cider alongside the sandwich. Sometimes Emma wondered if she would ever grow accustomed to having every meal provided, to never have to worry she would have to beg or steal to merely keep from starving.

 

Emma had never really been certain where she stood when it came to gods, had never been inclined to believe in any of them when the only being who had ever been proven worthy of her trust was herself. But whether there was anyone listening or not, she always took a moment to send out grateful thoughts before she ate.

 

The sandwich was just as delicious as she had expected, and once Emma had finished the last crumb and drained every remaining bit of cider, she turned to Regina.

 

“How do you feel about chess?”

 

“I feel that I would very much enjoy a game at this moment.”

 

“Fantastic.”

 

Emma cleared the table of the tray and her dishes, then went to work setting up the board.

 

Soon the game was underway, and Emma was relaxing in the familiarity of the moment. Regina seemed to be doing the same, which had been Emma’s partial objective with the request. While eating her sandwich, she had also used the time to covertly watch the other woman. Regina seemed a bit on edge for some reason, but the fact that she had not broached the subject implied it was something she would rather not discuss. Emma thought she would enjoy taking her mind off it for a while instead.

 

The game was a close one, and Regina peered carefully at the board. Then she tilted her head down at Henry, her lips dusting the fine hair on his head as she dropped a kiss there and asked, “What do you think, little prince? Which piece should we move?”

 

From Emma’s perspective, there were two equally strong moves Regina could make at that moment, and she was curious as to which the woman would make, as well.

 

Henry reached out a hand and made a fist, seemingly moving toward the queen.

 

“Excellent choice, my dear. I knew you had good taste. Chose the best piece on the board for your very first move.”

 

“The queen is your favorite?”

 

Regina looked up, surprised. “Of course. The king may be the key to winning the game, but the queen is the one with all the power. Why? What’s yours?”

 

Emma considered this, casting her eyes over all the pieces on the board before settling on one. “The knight, I think.”

 

Regina tilted her head slightly to the side. “Why is that?”

 

“He’s unpredictable, always on the move. You think you have him trapped, but there’s always a way to escape. And even though almost everyone underestimates him, he can be an extremely vital piece.”

 

Silence followed her speech for a few seconds, and Emma felt her face flush as she awaited a response to her (entirely too revealing) explanation. Eventually, the brunette nodded. “You do make an excellent point. I think the knight may be quite high on my list of favorites as well.”

 

“Well, the queen is rather impressive, too. You just have to take care, to love her for all the complex possibilities she offers, not just her sheer power.”

 

Regina stared at her for a moment, nameless emotions bolstering her gaze and making it so intense, Emma had to look down to the board. She could feel her heartbeat in her stomach.

 

“The best piece on the board, without a doubt,” Regina said, and when Emma looked up, Regina was smiling and normal, and Emma could breathe again.

 

“We shall simply have to agree to disagree.”

 

“A topic I believe we have mastered,” Regina laughed, referring to the fact that over their months of friendship, they had discovered that while they agreed on many things, they disagreed on quite a few as well. Regina’s favorite season was autumn, while Emma preferred the heat of summer. Regardless of the season, however, they both agreed that late nights were far superior to early mornings. Emma had been surprised at that, always having considered Regina a morning person. Regina had merely stated that her early mornings were a product of necessity and habit.

 

Emma made her next move, and Regina considered it before countering. Emma was contemplating her response when Henry dropped the small carved horse he had been holding, reaching for Regina’s king instead. He merely succeeded in knocking over the king, and it rolled off the board onto the floor.

 

“Henry!” Regina exclaimed, and Emma could not hold back a loud laugh.

 

“May as well leave it. You won’t need it for much longer anyway,” she bragged, raising her eyebrows.

 

“Wish all you like, dear, but my king will be the one standing when we’re done today.”

 

“I’m certain you would like to think so,” Emma said, and she tried to keep a straight face while Regina gave her that haughty stare. She failed, her lips cracking into a smile that forced Regina to lose her composure as well.

 

Regina held up her son, who chewed innocently on one fist. “You were supposed to be on my team, little prince. Perhaps I should hand you over to Emma and see what damage you will inflict over there.”

 

“Oh, so he’s your secret weapon now? Here I thought we were supposed to be teaching him love, not destruction.”

 

“If I announce my intentions before I hand him over, he is clearly not a secret weapon. I merely wish us to be on equal footing. After all, can you call it a victory when you’ve not been playing a fair game?”

 

“We’ve played holding him plenty of times before.”

 

“Yes, but never before has he intentionally sabotaged my pieces. Perhaps he should not be spending so much time with you. It is clearly making him play favorites.”

 

“Do not blame me for your child’s good taste.”

 

Regina laughed as she settled Henry back in her lap once more. “Perhaps he does not have the _worst_ taste. I’m only saying it could be better.”

 

“Please stop. I am blushing at the compliment over here.”

 

“Oh, just hush and play your turn,” Regina said, righting her king and moving her rook a few spaces to the right.

 

A few more turns made it clear that Emma was going to be the victor of the game, and shortly thereafter, she made her final move.

 

“Check mate,” she said, grinning, sticking the edge of her tongue out from between her teeth.

 

Regina huffed, subjecting the board to a few moments of scrutiny before tipping over her king. “It does appear so.”

 

“That’s it? No crying for a rematch?”

 

“No. Well, not today, at least; I don’t have time for another game. I need to write Lancelot before tomorrow.”

 

“Oh, how is that going?”

 

Regina’s eyes sparkled. “It’s wonderful. Emma, _he_ is wonderful.”

 

Emma’s answering smile was not entirely forced, as she was incapable of seeing Regina this happy without feeling some measure of happiness herself.

 

But the tightness in her throat belied the fact that she was entirely pleased. Emma swallowed, trying to ease the stress, but the sensation only moved lower, settling like a blanket of burs on her lungs, tight and stinging.

 

“What happened?”

 

Regina gave a brief explanation about a shortage of available planting space, that due to her suggestion, the people were going to be able to plant more food, a wider variety than ever before. If it succeeded, the impact would be monumental, both for the families of the kingdom and for the trade relationships with their nearby partners.

 

“That’s fantastic! But it sounds like it was more your idea than his.”

 

Regina’s smile faded almost imperceptibly.

 

“It was. But if it weren’t for him, not only would I be unaware of the problem in the first place, but even if I did know, if I had an idea for a solution, I would be unable to share it. The king would never take suggestions from me, but he will from Lancelot. He is doing so much for me, Emma. I do not know how to repay him.”

 

“Have you mentioned that to him?”

 

“I have,” Regina answered, flushing and looking down as she continued. “He says there is no need. He says in his first kingdom, the queen was very involved in ruling, that he sees no reason why it should be different here, particularly as I have proven both interested and capable. That serving me is its own reward.”

 

Emma stared at the blush that covered Regina’s cheeks and felt her teeth clench. This was ridiculous. Regina was a married woman, and Emma was growing envious over someone with whom she only shared letters.

 

But despite his permanent presence in her life, Regina’s husband held no place in her affections, while Sir Lancelot brought a shine to her eyes Emma had never seen before, and those letters contained Regina’s honest thoughts and opinions, something she herself had been the only recipient of until recently. Emma gave herself a stern mental headshake. This was good for Regina. She was actually able to use her position to do something that mattered, and it was always nice to have more than one person in your corner. Though a few people had made brief stops along the way, Emma had frequently been the only inhabitant of her own particular corner. It was terribly lonely, and she would not wish it on anyone, especially Regina, who had far too much experience with the same feeling.

 

Yes, Regina’s corner was cozy when it was only the two of them and little Henry. But Emma would welcome with open arms all members who proved worthy. She would not be the kind of person who desired all the positive attention for herself. She would not begrudge Lancelot the esteem Regina held for him, especially when the particular brand of affection she craved was not hers to claim, nor was she even sure that was what was being offered to Lancelot.

 

Regina likely only thought of him as a friend and confidante, just as she did Emma. If she harbored deeper feelings, well, Emma had no right to protest. She would not allow her own issues to inhibit her ability to support Regina.

 

“I will have to meet this Lancelot one day. I’m starting to believe you made him up. He sounds like a character from a fairy tale.”

 

Regina laughed. “I sometimes think that, myself. But he has done nothing to make me distrust him. In his last letter, he said they had measured everything, and my plan is to be implemented next week. I almost cannot believe it. I outsmarted all the senior knights and a king!”

 

“Which part of that is supposed to surprise me?”

 

Regina rolled her eyes. “Don’t flatter me.”

 

“You’re the one who set yourself up for it. I’ve said it before: They’re the idiots for not listening to you. Clearly they’ve never played you at chess, or they would know what a mastermind you are, even if you are a bit evil at times,” Emma added with a smirk.

 

“I am fairly certain that ‘evil queen’ is not a title one generally looks for in a leader.”

 

“Well, perhaps you should keep your merciless tendencies limited to the chess board.”

 

“An excellent plan,” Regina answered with a smile, but something was wrong. A shadow hung in the air where previously there had been only sunshine. Regina took a little breath, and Emma thought she might explain, but she only said, “But now I really must go.”

 

True to her word, the queen stood and handed Henry to Emma, bidding them both a farewell and closing the door behind her.

 

Emma let her head fall. She pressed her forehead to Henry’s, but he spurned the contact with an annoyed burble and a shake of the head, preferring to toy with the neckline of her gown.

 

“Oh, Henry,” she sighed, glancing at the door once more.

 

Her feelings were jumble. She was happy for Regina and proud of her, but she was worried, too, for the queen clearly had unspoken problems that persisted in troubling her. Emma also had a difficult time trusting Regina’s judgment of Lancelot. In her experience, people who seemed too good to be true were often just that, and she had an underlying feeling of suspicion where he was concerned. But she also would not deceive herself and pretend she was entirely impartial regarding the matter.

 

Emma was through with the web of self-delusion she had tried so hard to construct during Regina’s trip the month before. Her efforts had been entirely in vain, for it took no longer than a week for her to realize that her feelings were real and had nothing to do with misplaced affection or any such nonsense.  They were the result of the fact that Regina was a beautiful person, both inside and out, and Emma connected with her in a way that defied description. Emma still hurt. She still had her moments of loneliness, still mourned for her son, still occasionally felt that itch that said she did not belong. But with Regina, she simply felt _right_.

 

But that was not even the best part.

 

The best part was that Emma felt like she was that person for Regina, too. The place where she could just _be_ , where everything hurt just a little bit less. That she could give that to Regina made her feel taller than a giant, and it was all she ever wanted to do.

 

That was, however, where it stopped for Regina, while Emma wanted to take it further. She wanted to lean in and kiss those pink lips, to trace her fingers underneath the lace of the queen’s nightgown, along her delicate collarbone. She longed to support her as only a lover could, to make Regina feel and feel and feel and _know_ that her loveliness was something she could own, not fight, something that was a part of her but not the most important part. That her mind was incredible, her love for her son inspiring, and her strength admirable.

 

Emma sucked air deeply into her lungs and exhaled a shuddery breath, and Henry scrunched his nose at her, starting to root at her chest.

 

Emma laughed then, reaching up to unbutton the hidden fastenings in her dress that allowed for easy access to her breasts. Henry latched greedily onto her nipple, and Emma adjusted him to ease the twinge in her arm.

 

The problem was that while Emma was a master at shutting her emotions off and not letting herself feel anything when she chose, that was only a temporary escape, and one that was not feasible here. Emma did not want to feel _nothing_ , but she could not simply turn off certain parts of herself at will. She had tried before, attempted to bury certain feelings. But instead of dying, they simply festered and grew resentful of being ignored until finally they worked together with her impulsive nature to wreak some serious havoc.

 

Nothing good could come of trying to ignore her feelings for Regina. Perhaps she should be honest with herself about them, then simply talk herself out of them. Emma’s head could already see it was hopeless to feel this way, so perhaps the rest of her would listen to logic. She simply needed to get her heart under control before it decided to go do something exponentially stupid like falling in love.

 

The possibility that she was there already was something she was unwilling to contemplate.

  
  


 


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